


No Easy Answers

by Happy_Veggie_Farmer



Series: Answers [1]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Veggie_Farmer/pseuds/Happy_Veggie_Farmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz realizes that her life has separated into two mutually incompatible worlds; her professional success and friendships at the Post Office versus her developing emotional bond with their criminal informant.  Now she has to decide which part she will choose as they work together to stop a terrorist threat in Boston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ohh, first post ever! *fingers shake on keyboard*
> 
> First off, I have to thank the amazing, brilliant writers in this fandom who have given me so many hours of enjoyment reading their stories. I spent a lot of time while writing this thunking my head on convenient surfaces mumbling "This will never be as good!". But you gotta do what the plot bunnies tell you to do, right?
> 
> Special Agent Elenna Davidson is my own creation - all of the other characters belong to their legal owners and were only borrowed for a little while. I am making no money from this project.
> 
> This is just the first of a multiple chapters. If people like it, I've got four more parts ready to go. If you hate it, I'll go back to shoveling fertilizer on the new planting beds (In RL I'm an organic farmer). Let me know what to do!

 

Elizabeth Keen liked easy, slow, predictable mornings. Wake after two slaps of the snooze button on her alarm. Start the coffee before her shower; feed the betta fish as she waited for the microwave to beep. Pull on whatever bland federal agent blouse and suit she had laid out the night before. Put up hair in a simple style and apply basic makeup. Strap on comfortable heels that can park under a conference room table or race out of an exploding building, whichever would be necessary that day. Clip badge to waistband and holster weapon on her way to the car. Just like all of the other federal workers getting ready for their daily grinds, she reminded herself. Nothing special here. Except that she had to keep her cell phone within easy reach at all times as she passed through her morning routines. Because she was the only federal employee living at the beck and call of the man her employer had labeled the fourth worst criminal in the world. Raymond Reddington, whom she had honestly never heard of until the day she took an unexpected helicopter ride to meet a smiling man in chains. Every morning, weekends included, at some point her phone would beep with the special tone she had assigned to Nick's Pizza, and she had learned to never risk missing that call. Sometimes the calls were frustrating, sometimes amusing, and sometimes they were apocalyptic. Twice since the morning calls had started she had let the call go through to voice mail. The first time she missed a call, fifteen minutes later Red had marched in through her front door, helped himself to the last of the coffee and dropped pointed comments about the messy state of her kitchen and her tardiness. The second time she missed the call, ten minutes later the price of gold on the commodities market dropped eighty five percent before suddenly rebounding to triple its earlier price.

Today's call was a rambling story reminiscing about a long ago weekend spent drinking in Lithuania with the KGB agent turned president of Russia. She listened with half an ear, more focused on searching for the lid of her to-go cup of coffee. She had never really organized the kitchen of her new apartment. After their return from Europe two months ago, she had leased it over the phone on a Thursday and dropped off her few possessions that weekend. Ever since she had lived out of boxes and suitcases, sometimes taking an hour out of her rare and precious free time to hang curtains, or unpack some decorative items to try to give the place some kind of homey feeling.

Red was still chatting as she locked the apartment door behind her. Her neighbor across the hall was leaving at the same time. He smiled brightly when he saw her and said hello. She motioned to the phone and shrugged as she mouthed good morning. Mark had asked her out to dinner once; she had accepted, but an hour before dinner Red called with a warning about a chemical bomb in a Philadelphia police station, and she didn't even have a good, non-classified excuse to give Mark when she called to cancel the date.

The apartment building featured a heated, secured parking garage, one of Red's many stringent requirements for her apartment selection. Her Mercedes stood out in the sea of simple mid range sedans. Red had bought it for her within her first few weeks on the job, after too many mornings of delayed meetings because her husband had taken their only car and she was stuck with public transit. Tom had never believed her story that it was a loaner from her employer; in several of their later, more bitter fights he had insinuated that it was a gift from a boyfriend. Then when she found out the truth about the duplicitous jerk, she realized that he had probably known all along it was from Reddington. She was ashamed of how much she enjoyed thinking how badly that must have chapped his pathological lying ass.

The call finished up with the notice that he wouldn't return to DC for several more days. Liz was genuinely sorry for that; she liked the days he was in town better. Daily he would insist she needed to tag along for some chore or meeting, guaranteed to be either fun or at least oddly intriguing. Without Red livening things up, she guessed today would be a lot of catching up on paperwork or some other low level stuff. Though maybe she and Elenna could finally have that shopping lunch they've been talking about for some time now. Lizzie made a mental note to catch her when she arrived at the office; Special Agent Elenna Davidson had joined the team while Lizzie had been off in Europe with Red hunting down leads to Berlin. Agent Davidson had been serving on the current Reddington task force, which the FBI had kept formally operational. When she had gotten a little too close to success on several occasions, she was transferred to the Post Office. She was an excellent agent and highly respected by all of her colleagues, but when she had the chance to step away from the job, Elenna was a lot of fun as well.

Lizzie pulled into her usual parking space and reached the huge yellow elevator at the same time as her other team mate, Agent Ressler. He greeted her expressionlessly as she punched the button for the floor for their shared office. "How's your other half?" he asked, motioning to her phone.

"Out of town until Thursday. Keeping up appearances," she answered. She had adjusted to the digs at her 'special relationship' with their prize informant. She understood why Ressler had been so bitter than she had been chosen by Red for this role. Ressler had lost years of his life to chasing the man across the globe only to have his target literally walk in the front door and kneel down in surrender to another person. Don still didn't know why she had been chosen as his only contact, but at least he didn't take out his resentment on her anymore. After all, being Reddington's favorite hadn't gotten her any extra perks at work, it was quite the opposite. She had had to prove herself over and over before her coworkers could accept her as a talented agent in her own right. Now she had reached the point where everyone still took the easy jabs at her, but with affection, as one of the team.

The morning continued in its perfectly normal way. The stack of paperwork on her desk shrank noticeably. She didn't know it was Aram's birthday until she approached the computer lab on an errand and saw his desk was covered with balloons and streamers. Sheepishly he acknowledged her best wishes, offered her one of his birthday cupcakes and chatted amiably about the task she had brought for him. A happy coincidence brought Agent Davidson to his desk at the same time. The tall redhead plunked down on the corner of his desk, gleefully accepting a cupcake, and agreed to make use of slow paced afternoon with a late lunch and to visit some of their favorite shops. "Tell the Bad Boy to take some more time off," said Elenna, using her favorite nickname for Red. "We can all use a little vacay."

Half of the workday was done, and Liz was pleased. No bloodshed, no emergencies, and lots of things crossed off of her to-do list. Someone else, also feeling the pleasant sense of tranquility in the air, started up the idea of taking Aram out for drinks after work to celebrate his birthday. Liz signed on quickly with Ressler and Elenna joining in as well. Even Cooper agreed to stop by for one round. The Post Office was about to have its first office party in its illicit history. This little touch of rare and precious normality brought an extra oomph to everyone's step.

Liz was finishing up a few tasks before her afternoon escape with her friend when her phone rang with that tone. "Hi, Red," she greeted.

"Where are you?" he demanded.

"At work?" she replied. "Post office?"

"I know you're here at the office," his voice was irritated. "But this is a rather large facility with lots of little hiding places that frankly I don't feel comfortable visiting. Where are you?"

"You're here?" Lizzie's voice climbed higher in her surprise. "I thought you were gone for the week."

"Change of plans, sweetheart. I'll wait for you here in the conference room. Better tell Harold I'm here. And the rest of the Scooby gang, we have some work to do." She hung up and sighed. No party for Aram. Nor would she be relaxing in front of her TV tonight, reveling in new shoes and a chance to finish unpacking the kitchen gear. She recognized his tone of voice as the harbinger of another stressful night.

By the time she passed the word on to all members of the team, she was the last to arrive in the conference room. Pairs of eyes turned to glower at her, as it it was her fault he had decided to change his plans and come in to ruin their fun. "Good afternoon, Agent Keen," Red greeted her from the head of the table. Today he was in his light grey suit, wearing a tie she had picked out for him in London during their travels over the summer. His hat rested on the conference table, inches away from a brightly wrapped box. "I apologize for the late notice," he continued, gazing at each participant in turn. "These darn terrorists have no respect for your agendas nor mine. Harold, I'll be meeting tonight with a man who is interested in buying dismaying amounts of enriched uranium. He's so insistent that he receive this material within forty-eight hours that he's willing to double my already embarrassingly high rush delivery fee."

"Where are you meeting?" Cooper stayed on task as the others turned to each other and sighed.

"Mrs. Chatham is hosting a fundraiser tonight." Olivia Chatham was the last non-partisan hostess in Washington society. She had a knack for finding new interesting people with new interesting underfunded ideas and tossing them in among the movers, shakers, and big time money makers that always populated her parties. Invitations were limited and security intense; it was rumored that it was easier to break into a White House party than a Chatham. Cooper wondered how their contact had managed his invitation to such a high level event. Red grinned in his way reserved when he was amused by their remaining dabs of innocence. "This will be my fifth Chatham party. She's a very congenial hostess who takes just a little cut of every deal, and you are not to investigate Ms. Chatham any further, Harold and ruin a convenient setup. Lizzie, you're my plus one. I also have secured invitations for Mr. and Mrs. Breitfarb. I suggest Agents Davidson and Ressler join us inside the party. My friend may have other contacts in attendance you'll need to supervise while I'm busy. I may need some technical research quickly; I suggest that Aram be part of the team in the van."

"Happy birthday to you," someone commiserated with him softly.

Red smiled brightly at this. "Yes, happy birthday, Aram. This is for you," he offered the brightly wrapped present he had brought with him.

Aram's expression was both incredulous and pleased. "Thank you," he offered his benefactor.

"I'm assuming some of you will have to acquire evening wear," Cooper cut in. For a Chatham party, they couldn't do their normal delivery arrangement with the formal shop at the local mall.

Red shook his head. "Agent Ressler, I've already arranged a fitting for you this afternoon with an excellent tailor. Not my usual man, but I've been quite happy with Monsieur Garard's work in the past. Agent Davidson...."

"I can find my own big girl dress, thank you very much," she replied dryly.

"Lizzie?"

"I'll wear the blue one from Milan," she sighed. During their travels, his love for fine clothing had been extended to dressing her as well. He had hounded her, pleading, whining and bribing, until she relented and agreed on his purchasing for her a series of couture designs. He had prophesied that they would come in handy someday and today was his told-you-so. She wondered silently with some bemusement how many federal agents kept designer gowns in their office. She had taken over a smaller storage room down in the lowest floor to store all of the clothes she had worn on her variety of undercover duties over the previous year.

"I'll have Dembe drop off some background info on tonight's featured criminals for your perusal. I'm staying at the Jefferson for the next few days. Lizzie, you have a three o'clock appointment at the spa; you should drop your dress off at the suite before your appointment. We'll have time for a dinner in the restaurant downstairs before the party begins." She nodded, and caught the quick flashes of jealousy that spread around the conference table.

The meeting ended silently with each person drifting off to complete their new batch of afternoon chores. She half-expected Red to wait for her, but he only nodded at her briefly before picking up his hat and making his escape to the elevator and his waiting car. He still didn't like staying in the office any longer than necessary. It was one of the many things they did not discuss, but she knew from their time together traveling he still had nightmares about the incursion. So did she; it was one of several events in her life that had made her dread going to sleep at night. Too often now she found herself huddled under a blanket on the couch, only drifting off from sheer exhaustion or some nights a sleeping pill or large serving of wine. They had both slept better during their travels, alone in their own beds but comforted by the thought of the other one close by.

She joined the knot of colleagues gathered by the elevator, chatting as they waited for the slow, cumbersome car to arrive. The conversation stopped abruptly as she arrived. She smiled and offered a flip comment on the busy night ahead.

"Yeah, you'll have it so rough sitting in the spa all afternoon," snapped one of the tech guys, who was looking forward to hours locked in the overheated van with a bunch of nonsocial geeks. Ressler fixed him with a sharp look as Liz blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry we'll have to reschedule our outing," she said to Elenna.

She shrugged. "I'm going to use taxpayer money to buy a pair of Malono Blainiks," she replied lightly. "And now I have an excuse to buy that awesome dress on display down at Isabeau's."

"Why we have a budget deficit," Ressler mumbled as they entered the elevator car. "I don't know why I can't wear my old tux. It was good enough for undercover work before."

"Because I'm sure you wore that same tux to your high school prom," Elenna countered. "Props to Bad Boy for replacing that sucker."

Liz silently agreed. "Red has an account set up for me at Isabeau's. Just give them my name and let him foot the bill." She told Elenna, who accepted this with a gracious, silent nod.

Ressler snorted. "Have fun spending his money. Just don't think about where it came from." Lizzie didn't have an answer for that.  They spent the rest of the ride on details for the evening, trading who would take charge of what logistics involved in setting up an operation in a new location so quickly. Usually they had a couple days to set up these kinds of jobs, but thanks to Reddington the entire team had become experienced with flying by the seat of their pants, and what would have been called impossible a year ago was nearly routine now.

Lizzie grabbed her dress and one of her pairs of heels from the storage room and nearly flew out of the blacksite facility. She estimated that she had just enough time to make a stop at Panera before she would need to arrive at the Jefferson to be enveloped in its clouds of decadence. She nabbed the last empty table, chewed on her panini, and frowned while remembering her conversation with her partners in the elevator. She didn't need to be a profiler to know what Ressler and Davidson had both left unsaid. Red never flaunted his wealth in general, only when he was spending his money on her. It was embarrassing to be singled out like this from the rest of her co-workers. It was also uncomfortable when she heard the whispers in the office that he was getting something for his money in return. She couldn't blame them; she would have thought the same thing about another woman in her situation. She had finally realized that his sense of affection for her acted like a microscope; she filled his whole viewing screen, every detail sharp and fascinating, and everyone else around her faded to just a fuzzy dull background, unworthy of notice. But that didn't make her job any easier. 

 

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and Red attend the Chatham event with Agents Davidson and Ressler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is - part II! Remember, you asked for it! :)
> 
> I'm so glad people liked the first chapter. What a great feeling that the story I had a wonderful time writing could bring enjoyment to other people too!
> 
> Elenna is still mine, everyone else still isn't!
> 
> Even if they never see this post, I've got to take a moment to thank the incredible cast and crew that work so hard to bring us this amazing show - your talent and dedication shine through.

Lizzie grabbed a cookie for the road, just finishing the last bite before pulling up to the valet station. The Jefferson was becoming familiar ground. Red often stayed there when he was in town for a quick visit when it wasn't worth setting up a safe house. He alternated between the two best suites; tonight he was in the Thomas Jefferson with its multiple bedrooms and the dining room so useful for workspace for teams of visiting agents. She assumed she would be staying through the night there as well, and brought her backup luggage bag she kept stashed in her trunk. She checked in at the front desk for a key, and to also discreetly inform management that a federal presence would be in place that evening. All of the people on duty were familiar faces, and likely also on the infamous extensive Reddington network of well-paid informants.

She allowed a bellboy to take her garment bag and other items, and followed him upstairs to the entrance to the grand suite. As expected Dembe was already at the elevator as it dinged open, greeting her warmly as he took her luggage and tipped the bellboy generously. Liz allowed herself to be escorted into the entryway and took in the exquisite decor with a sigh. She shouldn't feel comfortable in such an lavish environment but she did. After her tour through Europe, through all of the finest resorts, castles, and elegant ancient villas she had to admit she had grown used to the finery.

Red was gazing out the open balcony doors, savoring the glorious view of the city. "Hello again, Lizzie," he greeted her warmly with a salute of his drink. "Perfect timing. How was your morning?" She stepped up beside him to catch a glimpse of the view. Two hours earlier she had been poking at the jammed staples in her government issued stapler with a pen cap. Now she was admiring the view from one of the most exclusive hotel suites in the city. Her life made no sense at all.

"Any more news on our party guests?" she asked. Before he answered he encouraged her to follow him into the suite dining room, where a lovely selection of afternoon tea sandwiches and sweets were on display. Liz tried to fight temptation but lost, picking out a small sampling to enjoy. Several freshly made pots of teas waited on the sideboard for her to make a difficult decision. She chose a refreshing-scented green mint and took a seat at the table. Red made small talk as he refilled his glass. Then he disappeared from the room to return with a thick manilla folder. He laid it to the side of her cup.

"Your copy of the report. I thought you would appreciate something to do while you're in the shop, so to speak." He knew how much Lizzie disliked the hair and make-up process on occasions such as this, but he never understood why. "Agent Davidson can give you more intel, I'm sure. She investigated his work before but never had the opportunity to meet him in person. I'm sure she'll enjoy this evening immensely."

"Maybe Elenna should be your date tonight," Lizzie offered. It would professionally make sense, but her heart had to grudgingly admit to her mind she didn't want to make the switch.

He shook his head emphatically and answered with a tad of ruefulness, "I doubt that she and I could fool anyone into believing us a romantic couple. But you and I can quite easily give that impression." Lizzie blushed slightly at his words, but offered no argument. "We have reservations for dinner at seven," he rose from his seat. "I'll be back by six to dress. I'm going to visit a few old friends and see what I can shake out of them before this evening." "Have fun," she replied absently, as he leaned over to drop a friendly kiss on the top of her head.

She hoped he did have a fun afternoon, because she did not. The spa was as awkward as she feared. Unlike many of the hotel staff, the stylists didn't know her professional connection with the man in the presidential suite. They had come to their own conclusions about their relationship. So while they were outwardly solicitous, when they thought she wasn't watching the eye-rolling and snickers would commence, and against her protests they always overdid her hair and makeup until she felt like the trailer park branch of the Kardashian family.

Sitting abandoned under the dryer she was finally able to read through the file. The suspect, Brendan Mack, was a familiar name to law enforcement everywhere.  She thought it was odd his organization was involved with this; they weren't usually the bombing type. Then she surmised that's probably why Mack had reached out to the Concierge. Red had cheerfully told her once the secret to his success was quality customer support. These guys would expect excellent service along with the goodies they were buying. Her phone was with her as always; she had a couple of short conversations with Davidson and one with Ressler, sharing her thoughts and listening to theirs in return. As Red's date, Liz couldn't risk wearing a wire or anything that might give her away as a fed, or by extension his role as informant. They would operate independently as much as possible from the rest of the team. Her partners would stay in contact with the van and act as their backup, keeping an eye out for any unexpected challenges. If she needed to contact them, she would carry a glass of red wine as her signal for them to approach.

Finally her handlers declared her exquisite and ready for her glamorous evening. Liz cast one doubtful look in the mirror and thanked them politely for their efforts. All she had to do now was put on her dress and shoes; she was looking forward to some time to relax in the suite before dinner. When she arrived upstairs Dembe was camped out in the living room, engrossed in the soccer match broadcast on the huge TV, sipping a beer and snacking out of a big bowl of popcorn settled on the couch next to him.

"Who's playing?" she asked. Even she had caught a little World Cup fever.

"Germany and Brazil. Raymond is dressing. He should be out shortly."

"I'm going to get dressed myself." She found her dress had been removed from the garment bag and was hanging from the back of the door in the second bedroom. The dress was as lovely as she remembered. She was pleased by the way it brought out the color of her eyes. She almost always wore black dresses on these occasions, but she had let herself be talked into vibrant blue. Liz pulled it on quickly and returned to the mirror to evaluate her image. It was cut lower than she would have liked in the front, but she had to admit that the expert tailoring was doing its job to make the view pretty darn good. The skirt draped to the ground from cunningly placed pleats and folds, clinging in the right places then falling away with a rather daring slit, forming a little train in back she feared would be a hindrance to any rapid exit strategy.

Then the zipper stuck halfway up its journey. "Damn," she muttered, tugging experimentally. Something had gotten caught. She wasn't going to be able to fix it herself without having to pull off the dress and likely messing up her highly engineered hairdo. Dembe was still out on the couch in the main room, but she turned instead to the master bedroom and tapped on the door.

Red opened immediately, blinking quickly as he did when something surprised him. He stared for a double beat, frozen by the unexpected and wondrous sight before him. "Sweetheart, look at you!" he finally was able to exclaim in rapture. He stepped into the hall, circling around her to take in the whole image. "Fantastic. Except for the ...." he motioned to her back and the misbehaving zipper. He glanced into the living room; Dembe had disappeared, probably to get the car ready for the evening. "Let me see what I can do." His hands delicately explored the mechanism. She glanced around, studiously examining the decor as he worked, trying to ignore the soft puffs of his breath on the back of her neck. "Got it. There was a loose thread." He zipped her up the rest of the way and turned her to face him again. "As lovely as an angel," he smiled tenderly, as he rested his fingers on her bare upper arms. Her hands itched for somewhere to be. She settled on finishing up his bow tie, which was hanging loose around his neck.

"There, now we're both presentable," she said primly.

"No, you're not quite done," he answered abruptly. And excused himself to return to the master bedroom for a moment. She wandered out to the living room, admiring the view of the city in the warm rays of sunset. His voice was loud as he ambled through the halls of the suite, searching for her. "I pulled these out of storage earlier today when you said you'd wear the Milan dress. I saw the set in New York last month and I could not resist. They sang out to me, Lizzie, I simply couldn't walk away without them." She turned around to see him holding out for her view an antique wooden jewelry box. Inside was a choker necklace of marble-sized diamonds and sapphires, with a pair of matching drop earrings. "Vintage, I assure you. I accept your opinion on blood diamonds. The seller provided documentation of their purchase from the estate of the Duchess of .. Lizzie, stop frowning at me."

Her hand had flown to her mouth as she gaped in wonder at the gems in his hands. "Red, you know I can't accept a gift like this. These have to be worth... I don't know if I could even guess the number."

His lips pursed in disappointment. "They're worth nothing locked away, Lizzie. If you won't take them as a gift, at least borrow them from me tonight. Let them sparkle their finest for one night before they're locked away again for eternity in a safe deposit box." She paused, gazing longingly at the box in his hand, then acceded to his wishes. He maneuvered her to stand in front of the room's only mirror, then carefully removed the necklace from its protective nest and fastened it behind her neck. She clasped on the matching earrings and took a moment to examine their images gazing back at her. He had his arms wrapped around her waist, smiling as her eyes widened at her reflection. "Come on, Cinderella, let's get you to your ball." Red pulled her in for a brief hug, his lips brushing quickly against her forehead. She missed the brief contact as soon as it was ended. Liz gave the necklace a reassuring tug to be sure the clasp was securely engaged, then linked his hand with hers and allowed him to lead her from the safe confines of the suite to the world below.

She was sure they were the center of attention as they crossed the lobby, and Liz always hated being the center of attention. She wanted to shrink under the probing gazes of the other guests, but he kept his hand firmly in the small of her back, guiding her gently forward the front entrance and Dembe and the car in front. She heaved a sigh of relief when they were both in the car and had pulled out from the lobby entrance. Then she realized, "I thought we had reservations at the restaurant."

He shrugged. "I thought we would try somewhere else tonight. If you don't mind."

"Not at all," she replied quickly. Through all of their adventures together, she had learned to completely trust his tastes in cuisine and his unerring ability to find somewhere interesting to eat.

They used the privacy of the car to chat over some of the details of the coming night. Lizzie checked in again briefly with Ressler and the others, still gathered at the Post Office waiting for the tech people to finish wiring them up. After she hung up, Red was still on his phone with the man he was meeting tonight discussing final arrangements. She shivered slightly at the coldness that had crept into his voice. Unconsciously she scooted away in her seat, leaning against the door to take in the passing scenery outside. She remembered how badly he had frightened her at their first meeting. The first time she had read all the way through his file she spent the night curled up on her couch, clutching her knees to her chest, terrified of the monster who had inserted himself into her life. It was the only time she was ever tempted to share with Tom the truth of her job and feel some empathy for her situation.

Her fear had never completely left her thoughts until two months ago. It had been Ressler of all people that broke the secret about Red's burn scars, dropping a reference casually in the middle of some conversation about identifying marks on a 'lister. That was when she knew her memories of the night of the fire were wrong, she realized why she was so important to Red, and she finally solved the mystery why, even in casual moments, she had never seen him without a long sleeved collared shirt. In a rage she had burst into the current safe house, racing past Dembe to find him in the library reading Henry James and nursing a tumbler of bourbon. He complied with her screamed demand, set down his book and drink and silently unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the ground. She spend two minutes running her fingertips over the hideous scars shrouding his back and shoulders, before she burst into tears and fell into his arms, begging him for forgiveness for all of times she had called him a heartless monster. He still said nothing, only pulled her tight against his chest and allowed her to scream and cry and shudder as her memories of the night reformed and revealed themselves to her conscious mind. When she had finished her sobbing and grew quiet, he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead and stood up, gathered up his abandoned shirt then silently buttoned it closed again. Then he led her to the spare bedroom of the house, kissed her again on the forehead, and wished her a good night's rest. The next morning she joined him at breakfast. Neither said anything about the previous evening. But the gentle kisses continued as part of their interactions, and her last fears about the criminal were gone.

Her mind came back to the present as the car rolled to a stop. She glanced out the window, then turned to Red in curiosity. "We're at the National Mall. Why?"

"Let's take a walk, shall we?" he offered her his hand in assistance as she climbed carefully out of the car. The Mall was nearly empty this time of day during the workweek. Most of the tourist destinations were closed for the evening, and all of the working people had already escaped the city center. The temperature was just right, and with the setting sun lighting up all of the monuments perfectly, it was a perfect time to explore. She whirled around, taking in the sights like a tourist. He nodded, pleased with himself that his plan had worked. Lizzie forgot to feel awkward as she reveled in the beauty around her. The Washington monument was bathed in pink light. He told her to watch for the gleam of the golden pyramid at the very tip. She oohed at the sight and laughed at her own childish amusement. She had lived in DC only a few weeks before starting her current assignment. It was shameful how many places she hadn't visited yet. They strolled hand in hand along the reflecting pool.

"What about dinner?" she asked sullenly, as if her question would be the ruin of her current contentment. But it was unfair to leave him unfed before their busy evening.

"I'm sure that something is open along here. I know there's a little noodle shop just about a block away."

She laughed out loud at the thought. "Noodle shop. Just like in that silly profile I spun for you in Montreal."

"Your profile was brilliant, Lizzie," he admitted. "Though I would prefer take-out so that we can enjoy the rest of the sunset." They found the shop still open, a few customers staring openly at the well-dressed couple whispering as they waited for their take-out order. They followed the paths past the Washington Memorial to a bench along the water's edge before unpacking their meal. Too soon for both of them the sun slid below the horizon, and Red regretfully checked his watch to see that it was time for them to make their appearance at the fundraiser. As soon as he stood Dembe appeared in view. He had moved the car nearby, so that within a couple of minutes they were on their way to the Chatham residence just a few blocks from their present location.

Soon enough they found themselves in a line of limousines dropping off their wealthy or famous contents onto a mini version of a red carpet. There was no press here, though, just enough security to make everyone feel protected. Liz wondered how many other illicit deals would be made here this evening, and shuddered slightly at the thought.

Her outfit gained her far more than her usual share of male attention, but all of the appreciative stares she received were quickly met by a warning glare from her companion, and her admirers would quickly find somewhere else to be. Red held her arm tightly in his as he escorted her through the security check just inside the front doors. Neither was worried when asked to show their fake IDs with their invitations; after all, Red was the best in that particular business. Within minutes they were directed through the grand double doors that led to the main ballroom. They were some of the last guests to arrive, Lizzie surmised. Already the dance floor was neatly filled with couples waltzing gracefully. Many more guests were gathered in small knots on the perimeter of the dancing zone, getting their business done early before the drinking and entertainment started in earnest. She was relieved to see her ensemble was not too extreme by the standards of the room. Wealth oozed from many of the guests, drawing in the younger and hungrier guests like butterflies to the flowering vine.

Without comment, Red immediately led Lizzie to the dance floor. She grimaced, remembering the last time they had gone dancing at the Syrian embassy. This time his stance wasn't as rigidly formal with her, and she was relaxed enough to lean into his arms and let him take the lead.

"That was not our finest evening," he muttered in her ear, letting her realize his memory had taken the same route.

"It was worth everything just to see you do your gay companion soliloquy," she whispered back. "That was mesmerizing."

"Don't knock what works. Though I think it best that I not visit Syria again for a long time."

Red thought about searching for his contact in the crowds, but he felt in no particular rush towards that duty. That conversation was going to be very unpleasant, and it was so nice to have Lizzie in his arms and smiling up at him in genuine pleasure. Then he felt the unwelcome tap on his shoulder. He stopped their dance and turned, frowning at the server who meekly handed him a folded note. "On to business," he announced with resignation. He brushed his lips lightly across her wrist before letting go of his partner's hand. She observed him as he gracefully weaved through the crowds of dancers, transforming again into the hardened criminal somebody knew would sell them the makings of a horrific weapon of mass destruction.

The meeting took less than half an hour. Red found her quietly waiting for him in one of the sitting rooms across the hall. The deal was simple. They expected the shipment to arrive on a certain ship sailing into Boston harbor Wednesday morning. They planned to make their attack by Thursday evening; Red couldn't pin them down on a target, but they suggested that he remain outside of Boston city limits for the foreseeable future. Red had to promise to meet them himself at the boat to receive payment in full from his conspirator. As they were still haggling terms, he was plotting out a plan to suggest to the team. That morning the FBI could follow up on a anonymous tip and arrest both of them during the raid. Living up to his legend, the great Reddington would escape custody before he could be transferred to Gitmo or some other facility like it where he belonged.

"I volunteer to spend few days back in custody," he offered Liz with a shrug. "let me talk to him after the CIA thugs do their job. I'm sure I can get a few more names and plans out of him. He's buying far too much material for only one target, I think. That's a question for Aram to research. Have you seen either of our backups yet?"

"They were dancing," Liz answered, grinning at the memory. "Elenna and Don. It was cute."

Red smiled as well at the thought. "I'm glad they're having a good time. Go ahead and fill them in.  I glimpsed a few old friends I must stop and visit, and it would probably be best if you didn't make their acquaintance."

She excused herself, and asked the first server who passed her to bring her a red wine. She sipped it from her vantage point in the ballroom doorway. Within a few minutes Agent Davidson was at her side, complaining loudly that the line for the lady's restroom now stretched out into the hall. The decorous couple next to her shot her a pair of offended looks. Liz quietly offered to lead her to a second facility upstairs.

"Oh my, are you rocking that dress!" Elenna exclaimed as soon as they were alone. Liz complimented her in return. "Please, I couldn't even get checked out by Don." She leaned back against the sink and switched back to work mode. "How did it go?" Liz filled her in with the details. "Reddington offered to stay in custody? I'm impressed. Way to take one for the team." Elenna paused. "How long are you two planning on staying tonight?"

Liz tilted her head in an uncanny imitation of her dance partner. "I don't know. I think the meetings are over, but Red may want to stay awhile and make sure he doesn't miss any additional opportunities for intel."

Agent Davidson relayed the conversation to and from the van. ""We'll keep operational for another hour or so, Just in case. We'll let you know before we shut down."

"Sure. We'll have a debriefing tonight at the office, right?"

"Actually, Red booked us a suite at the Jefferson for the night so we'll regroup there." They separated on the steps to find their dance partners. Liz found Red alone in the sitting room she had recently vacated, gazing out of the window.

"Look," he pointed to the rising moon. It was only a sliver glowing against the darkness of the night. "I always like the crescent moon the best, the way it hangs in the sky." She leaned her chin against his shoulder, enjoying the moment of quiet reflection. "When I was stationed on the destroyer we did a tour through the Arctic. It was cold as hell, but some nights I would go up on deck and watch the northern lights. They were so otherworldly they fascinated me. I thought about going back to school for astronomy." he paused. "Do you remember the moon in Venice?" She closed her eyes, reliving the memory. Following a lovely dinner in the city, they chose to walk around to explore the sights by moonlight. After hours of walking and conversation, they paused at the top of a curved footbridge to observe the moon above. Red had turned to study her expression closely, and for a flustered moment Liz was sure he was going to try to kiss her. The moment passed; he took her hand and led her onwards again, but that moment had stayed with her, coloring her thoughts for the rest of their journeys.

She opened her eyes and found a similar expression now gazing down on her. The flustered feeling came back, with the certainty that this time she would welcome the kiss. "This is a very lively place," he said finally, with regret evident in his voice. "I'm surprised we've had the room to ourselves this long. Maybe a little more dancing before we call it a night? We still have work to do after we return to the hotel, and I'm sure the rest of the team is ready to pack it in." They returned to the main ballroom, spotted Davidson and Ressler across the room chatting casually. Ressler tapped his watch, and waited for Liz to nod in acknowledgement.

Under the gaze of her coworkers, Liz found it hard to relax into his arms as she did earlier. He seemed to understand, subtly shifting them to the opposite side of the ballroom and out of view. Then she was able to lean in and rest her forehead against his chest. He laid a few gentle kisses in her hair before resting his cheek in the same place. He allowed himself two songs, then whispered in her ear that it was time to go. She agreed reluctantly, then followed him meekly to the exit. She leaned against him in the car, yawning contentedly, wishing out loud that the coming meeting would end quickly.

"Thanks for getting them the suite," she offered.

Red chuckled. "It wasn't for their benefit, my dear." He said nothing else for the rest of the short drive, only clasped her hand and gripped it tightly as he studied the view from his window.

She had planned to go with him up to the suite and at least remove her jewelry, but Elenna was in the lobby waiting impatiently for her. "Hello, Agent Davidson," Red greeted her.

She sent a glance his way, pursing her lips at his amused grin. "Hello, trouble," she replied shortly. "You coming along?"

"No, Lizzie knows the whole scheme. She can call me if you have any questions." Red offered another smile, from which Elenna turned away in disgust. He resisted the temptation to drop a quick peck on Liz's cheek but allowed himself to squeeze her hand before dropping it in surrender. He never joined the team for debriefings if he could avoid the experience. Either Agent Ressler or Davidson or both would spend much of the time glaring at him, dropping pointed comments on his actions they thought dipped too far into the grey zone of legal behavior. Or worse, they would watch him like a pack of vultures for any sign of his weakness for Lizzie. They wouldn't risk offending him so much that he would walk away from their deal; they didn't realize thankfully that nothing could ever cause him to willingly leave Lizzie. But the team could damage their delicate relationship with their prejudices, and that worried him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz meets with the rest of the task force for a debriefing, as her worlds grow closer to collision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its a shorter chapter, but it just seemed like a good stopping place.
> 
> Many, many thanks to the wonderful people who have taken time to read my story, and who went above and beyond to give comments or kudos - I haven't wiped the smile off my face all week!
> 
> Elenna is mine, Red, Liz, Aram, and Ressler aren't. Whoever wants Agent Shiver can have him!
> 
> I have included some four-letter words in here that I have the feeling FBI agents will use in conversation. (no f-bombs!) Please let me know if I need a rating change from teen, but as a former middle school teacher, I can sadly confirm that these words are in common use in our teen population.
> 
> All of my other fictional works have been science fiction - it's so nice to be able to write about real places and google things!

The FBI suite was a few levels down from Red's in several ways, but it was still elegant and comfortable. Certainly better than the conference room in the Post Office. Several urns of coffee and an appetizing array of sandwiches and snacks had been spread out on the table in the parlor in anticipation of their arrival. Agents Resslers and Davidson had both brought overnight bags with casual clothing for the rest of the evening. When Elenna and Liz arrived, laughing at Elenna's description of her shopping adventures that afternoon, Ressler had already reverted back to jeans and a t-shirt and was settled on the couch, flipping through his copy of the Mack file.

"I'm so disappointed," Hands on hips, Elenna pretended to pout as he came into view. "You were so fricking hot in that new tux. Now all of the joy is gone from my evening."

"Sexual harassment in the workplace," he intoned in reply without looking up from the papers in his hand.

"Take it where you can get it, Res," she teased. He offered a wry grin in reply, one of his few smiles that came close to reaching his eyes. She disappeared into the back bedroom to change out of her formal wear as well.

Liz took a seat on the sofa next to Ressler. "What's the latest?" she asked.

"Bad news from Aram. This guy is buying enough material for at least two targets. Red's willing to go back in the cage for this one?"

"He's worried how plausible it will look if he walks away clean from something of this magnitude," she answered. Lizzie had grown accustomed to accounting for his motivations to the group, since he was so rarely willing to speak to them in person.

"Makes sense," Ressler agreed. He had been trying to keep his eyes locked on hers and not dropping them involuntarily lower to the tempting view. Every time he jerked his eyes up from the plunging neckline they would land on the ostentatious display of jewels hanging above like a silent warning. "Keen, do you want to go change? Maybe put away the Crown Jewels? Those rocks have got to be heavy."

She considered this, the time-consuming trip up there and back again. "No, let's just get this done and over. Is Cooper coming?"

"No, we'll give him the full debrief tomorrow morning. Nothing is scheduled to happen within forty-eight hours so we got time to formulate a good game plan."

"Reddington already has an approach in mind," Liz replied.

Ressler frowned. "I'm sure he has. He can bring it to the meeting tomorrow and share it with all of us. I figured this meeting is just a formality, unless anyone has anything new to add."

"All I have to say is that I will personally pay to have the van detailed before I take any future surveillance jobs. Seriously, it's rank in there." Special Agent Matt Shiver had lost 'rock paper scissors' to be the surveillance van driver on duty that night. He dropped into the seat opposite them with a theatrical moan. "I told the guys take-out fried chicken was a bad idea. At least Aram brought along the last of his birthday cupcakes. Holy shit, are those real?" his eyes widened as he took in a view of the lovely agent sitting across from him.

"Now that was a shining achievement in sexual harassment," Elenna announced brightly as she reentered the room and caught his tasteless outburst. "Try as I may, I could never hope to reach your level of glory."

He shook his head, blushing as he realized what she thought he was referring to. "No, that necklace. My dad owned a jeweler's shop. I worked there through college. He thought I might take it over someday." He had approached Liz with enthusiasm to finger the gems, analyzing the craftsmanship of the the settings, oblivious to her discomfort. "Yeah, I bet these are real. Five figures, easy."

Liz swallowed nervously. He was obviously waiting for some kind of reply. "They were a gift from a friend."

"I think you have a very generous friend." Finally his FBI instincts caught up with him. His eyes narrowed. "Or he's getting something in return."

"Get out of here. Now," Ressler ordered him, and Shiver complied quickly. He cast down his eyes as he swept from the room, avoiding the hurt he had seen flash into his fellow agent's eyes at his words. Elenna replaced him in the seat across from Lizzie, her green eyes wide with sympathy.

"There goes number one on the FBI's least wanted list," she declared warmly. 

Liz surprised herself with her reply. "He only said what everyone believes," she declared quietly. 

"No one here thinks that, Keen," Ressler replied immediately. His normally placid face took on an angry expression. "Shiver's a jerk. I don't know how we got stuck with him."

"Are we done?" Liz asked. She rose from her seat, unconsciously covering his necklace with her hands. She was so ready to escape to the safety of the suite and change out of her finery. But Elenna's eyes brightened as she came up with a new scheme.

"Hey," she exclaimed. "Did you catch the part about Aram sacrificing his cupcakes to the cause? Its still early, right? Let's treat him good for his birthday. Get him horrendously drunk for shits and giggles."

Ressler's expression turned quizzical, than understanding. "He's in the back room. I'll inform him of the change in plans." When he was gone, Elenna turned back to Liz.

"You're going to get changed into something a little less enticing before the boys hurt themselves falling over you. Then you come back here, get drunk and have fun," she declared. "I'm willing to bet there's a liquor cabinet somewhere in this suite we can empty tonight. If not, then God bless room service."

"I don't know if its a good idea to stay here," Liz answered cautiously. "Onsite. We're still nominally on duty while we're on the premises." They waited until Ressler returned with Aram to put the question to him.

"I agree with Liz," Ressler decided. "I know a great bar a few blocks from here with a balanced pool table and good cheap beer."

"Sound good, Agent M.?" Elenna asked Aram, who was smiling and flustered by all of the friendly attention.

Lizzie excused herself, promising to meet the group by Ressler's car in parking garage within half an hour. She let herself in to the suite, idly wondering why Dembe wasn't at the door to greet her. Then she followed the soft music wafting in from the living room. Red was lounging in his favorite chair by the window, book open and laid flat on the armrest of the chair. He had loosened his bow tie and pulled off his dress shoes. His feet were propped up on the coffee table, one of the small informalities he had started to reveal during their summer travels. He beamed at the sight of her.

"Sweetheart, I can't begin to describe how radiant you are tonight. Would you like a drink? Something from the kitchen?" He rose from his seat to cross the room to her side.

"Can you help me?' she asked, reaching for the clasp of the choker. Before he complied, he allowed himself one more careful inspection to memorize the sight of her in her dress and jewels. He took his time, careful to catch as many angles as he could, as she waited in amazement at his obvious display of interest.

"Time to lock those back in their prison, I suppose," he said with finality. She caught the necklace as he used both hands to release the clasp. Wordlessly she released the earrings and passed them over as well. He laid them down gently on a nearby table, then brought his hands back to gently caress her shoulder. "I seem to remember your zipper was recalcitrant as you were dressing. Would you like some help with it now?" Lizzie clenched her eyes shut, feeling a match strike the inside of her stomach and flicker into an intense flame. His voice had grown deeper and gruffer, but she still sensed the undertone of tenderness implicit in all of attentions to her. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then one higher on her neck, and she took in a sudden gasp at the feel of it. 

"Red, they're waiting for me," she managed as his hands began to glide up and down her sides.

"Who's waiting, sweetheart?" he muttered against her neck.

'"The rest of the team. We're taking Aram out for his birthday." 

Abruptly he pulled his head back to face her. His eyebrows were furled in consternation. "Do you want to leave?"

She pulled away, retreating down the hall towards her room. He followed a few steps behind, bewildered by the sudden change in her mood. "What do I tell them, Red? I'm running out of excuses for all the extra time I spend with you. They're already suspicious."

"They assume my intentions are not in your best interests," he answered evenly. "What do you want, Lizzie?"

She pulled out a pair of jeans and a camisole from her bag. She had packed a pair of casual sneakers, but decided to keep wearing her heels to add to the festivity of the night. "A big part of me wants to blow them off and stay here with you tonight. But there is also a part of me that wants to run. I want a normal life. Red, I like my job and I like knowing that I've earned the respect of my coworkers. I like having friends I can hang out with at a bar, or go shopping at the mall during lunch. I don't think I can have that normal life and this too," she finished, motioning with her finger back and forth between them.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. He turned to exit the room, pausing at the doorway. "Could you believe me if I told you I empathize with wanting a simpler life?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "I know that you don't choose to live this way for your own enjoyment. I believe one day you will trust me enough to tell me why you have chosen this. Until then I have to accept that this is who you are and adjust accordingly."

"You already know so many of my secrets, Agent Keen," he spoke with his eyes turned away, afraid to see her reaction. "I'm astonished all over again any time you answer my call or walk through my door because every time I see you I believe that it will be the final time. Have a pleasant time with your friends tonight. But please come back."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz spends time with her co-workers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever see a little puppy, notice its oversized paws, and think 'gee, he's going to be a big puppy someday?' Well, this little puppy is growing much more than I had originally planned. I have to slow down the posting rate a little as I move into the fall planting season (I live in Florida - our growing seasons are the opposite of normal places!) but I will get it all finished and posted, I promise!
> 
> Someone drops an F-bomb in this section - I will change the rating to reflect the language and issue that character an after school detention.
> 
> Thanks for all of the kudos and comments - I'm so glad that people are enjoying this!
> 
> Thanks also to my husband, daughter, son, animals and seedlings that have dealt with me patiently as I've spend hours huddled over the Ipad!

She didn't see him again before she left the suite. She dressed quickly, grabbed her keys, phone and purse, called out a cheerful good evening in case either man was in the living area, and hastily pounded the elevator call button. She paced back and forth in the elevator, still hyped from their conversation and the way his hands had swept over her. When she reached the garage she found Ressler's old Jeep quickly. The rest of the party was already seated inside, with Ressler and Davidson arguing good-naturedly over radio stations. Aram caught sight of her through the back window and waved happily. She climbed in, wished him a happy birthday again, and told Ressler to hit the gas.

He announced, "I filled in Cooper on the latest. We have a ten o'clock meeting tomorrow with him."

Davidson added. "Somebody is paying for this operation; these guys couldn't front this kind of cash. I'll pick up the money trail tomorrow."

"I'll help you. But tonight it's all fun and games," Ressler reminded her.

"Thats right," she agreed. She turned to the back seat. "Hear that, boys and girls? As of now you're unemployed until eight am. Rock on."

Bendel's, the bar, was reasonably busy, but they were able to quickly claim the best pool table. Elenna ordered a round of vodka shots which they downed quickly, Aram sputtering and choking, then admitting he had never gotten the hang of downing a shot gracefully. "We have got to get you out of that basement more often," Liz commented dryly.

"I love my work, Agent... Lizzie!" he switched quickly with a warm smile. "But maybe I don't need to love it fifteen hours a day." 

The next round came and went, followed quickly by the third. Ressler racked up the balls for a team challenge; girls against boys. Elenna snickered. "Losers buy next two rounds. Don't worry, Lizzie. How do you think I paid my way through college?"

Ressler's eyes gleamed. "I thought that involved a tall metal pole. And pasties."

"Oooh, Res made a funny!" Elenna smacked him good-naturedly on the arm as she passed, lining up her first shot. Lizzie laughed, feeling the alcohol coursing through her system relaxing her as much as her friends' banter. She took her first shot at the game, surprised by how well her muscles remembered the moves. She had gone through a pool hustling stage in the past to earn some extra cash in high school. Ressler quickly caught on to her hidden talent but made no comments, surprising her in return by playing with unexpected grace. The match was close but Aram was new to the game, giving the edge to the girls. Liz waited with Aram as Elenna marched Don to the bar, forcing him to buy them a round of frozen margaritas.

"You looked so pretty in your dress tonight," Aram was finally drunk enough to say it. "Really beautiful. Hot." he added wistfully.

"Thank you," she answered, charmed by his good intentions. "I'm sorry you got stuck in the van."

He shrugged. "Its okay. I'm the tech guy, right? Its better than being shot at. I like my job, but I don't like it when people point guns at me."

"Me either," she replied, trying to stifle her laugh. She wondered what was taking the others so long, then gasped out loud when she saw the size of the drinks in their hands.

"No one has anywhere to be until tomorrow, right?" Elenna confirmed. "Because this task force is currently very non-operational." They surrendered the pool table to another set of players to set up camp in a recently abandoned booth. Liz sipped at her glass, savoring the sweetness of the drink. By the time she was halfway finished, the drink combined with the shots she had done earlier had hit her bloodstream. She found herself staring wide-eyed at Don, amazed by the way the rest of the room was spinning around him.

"Liz, you are hammered," he announced with pleasure. To be honest he wasn't that far behind. He had passed his girl drink on to Elenna and chosen a pint of Tin Dog Ale instead, pacing himself for the rest of the evening.

"I am," she agreed in surprise. She turned to the younger man on her left. "So are you."

"Thank for for this awesome birthday," he replied, his eyes wide with earnest emotion. "I never have fun birthdays. But you took me out, and Mr. Reddington gave me a great gift, and it has been great."

"What did he give you?" the question had been in the back of Ressler's mind all day.

Aram grew solemn. "I can't tell you. But it's cool. I promise to use its superpowers only for the good of mankind."

Ressler shook his head. "I don't want to know. I swear the day that man dies he is going to swagger into hell and scare off the devil."

Elenna agreed. 'I don't know how you do it, Lizzie, working with him every fricking day like that. I would have shot him long before now. Screw the intel, he's too evil to live."

Lizzie shook her head the best she could without bringing on a new wave of dizziness. "Come on, he's saved all of our lives at least once. Give Red some credit. He's not that bad."

"Really? Hands up if at some point Red has threatened to shoot you in the head," Ressler countered. Every hand went up except Liz's. "Case closed. He's an evil son of a bitch. And why are we wasting our drinking time talking about him anyway? Come on, the pool table is open for a rematch."

Liz gamely went along, stumbling in her heels. Ressler reached out his arm to steady her, laughing at her tipsy walk. She appreciated the extra leverage he provided as she aimed for an empty stool near the pool table. Her three companions kept up the banter easily as they played another round. Liz smiled and tried her best to match the benevolent teasing, but their talk had send her mind floating back in her memory of the evening, especially their quiet stroll through the Mall. She kept glancing to the windows at the front of the bar, wishing she could see the moon from her seat.

"Rack 'em, Keen. It's your turn," Elenna's voice cut in through the fog. Liz nodded and wearily rose from her seat. A phone beeped the same tone as Nick's Pizza. She stopped and reached immediately into her back pocket.

"Is that him?" Ressler was incredulous. "Seriously, you would take his goddamned call at one thirty am on a Tuesday morning?" She ignored his rant and checked her screen. It wasn't her phone. The person at the table behind her had received a call instead.

She stowed away her phone and finally acknowledged her companions. "Its my job," she stated, her face expressionless. "You know things have come up in the middle of the night before."

"Jesus!" he exclaimed to the sky. Elenna and Aram squirmed in the silence for a minute, then Elenna announced suddenly that she was in the mood for some dancing. She grabbed Aram by the arm and pulled him behind her, with the other two following less enthusiastically. The bar had a small dance floor in the corner, already filled with others with the same drunken compulsion.

After one song Liz and Ressler found an empty table from which to observe their companions. They laughed good-naturedly as Elenna would call out insults of their dance skills and lack of courage, but they didn't converse together, preferring to sip their drinks in silence. Liz waited another half hour before she set down her drink, yawned, and announced that she was going to turn in the for the night. Aram twice urged her to stay longer, than politely thanked her for coming out to celebrate.

"Are you going back to his suite?" Elenna asked quietly.

Liz played it off casually, pretending she didn't hear the undertone in the question. "Yeah, that was the plan. You guys have your suite through tomorrow so enjoy. The breakfast they serve downstairs is great, maybe I'll see you there if you can roll your hungover asses out of bed in time before the debrief tomorrow." She offered each of them a sunny smile, refusing to see the way each of them bit their lips, holding back comments.

She chatted with the bartender, asked him to call her a taxi, then waited in the relative quiet outside the front door of the bar. She could see her coworkers through the front windows, recognizing their pensive body language from so many tense work situations. Then Ressler jumped to his feet, plainly against Elenna's and Aram's wishes, and stormed through the crowds to join her outside.

"Keen, take a walk with me," he said as he reached her. She knew it would be a bad idea to refuse, so she joined him as he strode away from the smokers milling around the front of the bar. The music followed them half a block until they turned on to a quieter street.

"I'm drunk and pissed, and they are two good reasons why we shouldn't be having this conversation," he started. "But then again maybe you need to hear the kind of truth that is only going to come out of me when I'm drunk and pissed. I like you a lot, Keen. You're a smart agent, you got guts, and you came in willing to learn and willing to fight for what you know. You had a steaming load of shit piled on you day one, and you took it like a trooper. But you didn't take my advice, Keen. You let him get to you."

"I don't know what you mean," she answered weakly.

"Bullshit," was his prompt reply. "Maybe you're the profiler, but it doesn't take a lot of observational skills to see how you allowed Reddington free access into your personal life."

"I'm doing my job," she answered immediately. "He's just the job to me."

"Yeah, right. Keen, I'm here to tell you that you have come a long way in earning yourself a good reputation, but people are starting to talk about you. It's not good. They see you running off with him all of the time in the private jet to the fancy mansions and dinners and weekends, even when we don't have a case going. And then you show up tonight with that dress, and the jewelry, and he's beaming like the cat with the canary. Some people think he's showing off his new FBI whore."

She tried to slap him, but she was too drunk and shocked to do more than a flick of her hand before her caught her arm roughly.

"Fuck you," she snapped. "If you think it's like that then you don't know either of us at all."

"I don't think it's like that," he grabbed her arm to keep her from storming away. "Maybe I don't know you well, but after five years on the task force, I know him. Red never would flaunt a trophy girl. He likes to keep his personal business to himself. He didn't have a lot of relationships with women, and he kept the ones he had short, casual and private. I'm sorry to say this but a lot of his company was paid for and gone by the next morning."

"Jesus," she breathed, turning away.

"You're something different. What scares me most is that you for whatever reason are important to the son of a bitch. He's not going to let you go, Keen. If you don't step back now he's going to drag you right down to hell with him."

"Why are you telling me this?" she demanded. "Are you jealous?"

"Yeah, I'm jealous. That bastard gets it all, doesn't he? He swoops in and out taking anything he wants and flying away whenever there might be a cost. Hell, Keen, I'll say it. I like you a lot. But I also know that means nothing. Go ahead, lie to me and tell me you don't have real feelings for Reddington."

"I do," she admitted suddenly. "I know I shouldn't. But you don't know him, you only know the file. I can quote it chapter and verse, too, but that's not Red. I know him, Don, I've learned about the man he really is and he's not the monster we all wanted him to be because that made it so much easier to lock him away."

He turned away, forcing himself to bite back the words he wanted to hurl in response. After a few deep breaths he continued. "You're a big girl. Keen, I can't tell you what to do. But I'll give you one piece of advice. Don't go back to that hotel. Go home. Stay with me tonight, or stay with Elenna. Hell, stay with Aram and make his dreams come true. But don't go back to him. I'm going to pretend tomorrow that I was so ripped I can't remember a thing we said out here, so I won't have to lock you in an interrogation room to find out all you do and I don't know about Reddington."

She pulled away then from his grasp, focused on returning to the bar and the cab she hoped was waiting. He kept up with her furious pace. "One more bit of advice: whatever you decide to do, keep it quiet. If Cooper gets wind that your relationship has gone even this far you'll be fired, and maybe prosecuted as an accomplice if Cooper is pissed enough. If Red threatens to then take a walk, he'll find himself back in that box real quick."

"Thanks for the advice," she retorted.

"I'm telling you this as a friend, Keen, whether you believe me or not I care about what happens you. He doesn't!" he called out to her advancing form. He let her get away, hoping that at least something got through the fog in her head.

When the yellow cab pulled up she did give her home address first. Then within a half block she asked the cabbie to take her to the hotel instead. By the time it pulled up to the doorman she wanted to change her mind and go back to the bar. But she climbed out of the backseat anyway, straining her head to see warm light beckoning from line of windows of his suite. A memory hit with a pang; gazing at the moon outside of the window of the sitting room. He was likely looking up at the sky now, wondering if she would return that night. She nearly flew through the front doors, anxious to relieve his fears. Until she stopped suddenly, other images crossing her mind, making her speak out loud in her confusion, asking herself what to do, forward or backward. She was going to have to make a decision right now and she didn't know what to do. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red reveals some secrets to Liz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short, but meaty! There are a lot of my guesses on the future mythology mixed in with the mushy-mushy stuff :)
> 
> Insert legalese here: I own Elenna, the other characters belong to other people. 
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful people at Archive of Our Own for both providing this website, and making it pretty easy to use for a non-tech person like me!
> 
> Here we go! *takes deep breath*

Then the desk clerk called her over hesitantly. "Agent Keen?" Lizzie confirmed her identity. "I have a message for you. He asked that you read it before returning to the suite." The clerk had the decency to blush at being an unwitting observer in a private moment. Lizzie took a sealed envelope from her, noting her name scribbled on the front in red ink. "The sitting room is still open if you want a private place," the girl confided. Lizzie thanked her, opening the envelope as she walked. It was filled with several pages of his distinct handwriting. He must have started it as soon as she left, she mused. When she had found a comfortable seat out of the view of passersby, she started to read.

 

_Lizzie:_

_I will write these words because I am afraid to say them out loud._

_I will tell you my final secrets._

_I will write this down in my own handwriting and deliver this to you, knowing that you could read this and immediately share my words with Agent Ressler. I would understand if you did. He cares for you very deeply and wishes to keep you safe, and I like him for that. He fears me for good reasons. He knows that once upon a time I was him. I was a righteous and honorable man, until I chose a path and took my first steps along that path. It is never the choice we make that matters, Lizzie. Choices can change. It is those first acts we take because of our choice that bind us to the consequences of our decision. Agent Ressler suffered a loss like mine, and made the decision to take actions like those I had once completed and deeply regretted. So I took away his ability to take that first step. When he healed enough he knew how close he came to becoming just like me. He will never forgive me for that, because he will never forgive himself._

_I write on and on, Lizzie. It is easy enough, putting these words on paper. I can always throw these sheets into the fire if I decide I've said too much. But it is time to tell you a secret. Over the years I've been interrogated time and time again, and they always ask me why I entered into the criminal world. I always believed that the answer to that question was obvious. After the fire, I spent two years in either surgery, recovery or physical therapy. In the most practical banal sense this was expensive. All I had in my possession of any financial value were some confidential files I had brought home to read over that Christmas break. Their sale made me enough money to pay dear Abraham Maltz for his work and to set myself up in my first criminal enterprise._

_The question everyone should have asked me was why I continued on long enough in the business to become extremely wealthy. Surprised, my dear Lizzie? I don't know my net worth. It was vast when sweet Luli would brief me on financial matters, and I've been told it has grown since her tragic loss. I have far more money than I could ever need or desire for myself. You're smiling, thinking how I enjoy surrounding myself with fine things. It is true, my tastes have grown decadent since long ago when I was a simple Navy man. But I could have retired happily on my wealth years ago. I don't enjoy my work. I take no pleasure in what I have done to build my fortune. I labored for years to build an empire only so I could have the money to buy what I needed most: safety. I have enemies, my sweetheart, far worse than Berlin. Their reach extends across governments through legitimate businesses far farther than you can ever imagine. But the criminal world is mine; they have no way to reach me there in my haven. They still want to ruin me and seek any route towards that aim. If they ever learn how close I hold you to my heart, you will become a target and I can't have that. Yet another secret revealed only to you, my dearest. I love you. If you can't return these feelings, now or ever, please tell me quickly and with your usual kindness, and let me escape for some time to nurse my wounded heart quietly somewhere far from reminders of you._

_But now comes my last confession. I don't fight these enemies only for my own sake, nor even for yours. Destroy this letter, Lizzie, for I am about to violate a promise I made to never speak of these things. When I broke this promise before the result was the murder of my daughter. Now I fear for you and the rest of the task force if my confession escapes these pages. But I will tell you the truth, because I selfishly need you to understand why I've committed so many terrible crimes in order to reach the position I hold today. I fight for the sake of millions of innocent people that will die if my enemies enact the grand scheme they've plotted for at least the last twenty five years. They intend genocide on a scale nearly unimaginable; though I imagine it often enough in my nightmares. I keep four copies of the proof of my allegations in separate secure locations across the globe. When I die these proofs will be sent to four people I trust to continue my work, including Agent Ressler._

_For the first time since I've learned of these plans I have hope. My little list is the first shot in the war; more battles will come, but I've come to believe we can win this. Go ahead and laugh at me, Lizzie, the old criminal who dreams of saving the world. But I confess, now I think I can win._

_Come upstairs, Lizzie. Come to our suite, where I will be waiting, gazing at the moon and daydreaming of you. Come, even if you are coming only to tell me this is our end. But if you can, come to me with your love and forgiveness and stay._

_Raymond_

 

She read it twice through and then laid the paper quietly to the side and stood up to pace the small little private nook in the empty hotel lobby. She could picture him clearly at the desk in the living room, writing frantically, balling up sheets and starting over again. So she picked up the letter and her purse, and without any hesitation marched directly to the bank of elevators.

He was waiting just as he promised, in the chair by the window. His eyes searched hers frantically, seeking some hint to her feelings. She made it easy for him; when he rose to his feet she grasped his face in her hands and kissed him. He immediately deepened the kiss, pulling her against him as tightly as possible. "Dearest," he murmured against her skin, when they had to pause to catch their breaths. She ran her fingers along his chest; he was still wearing the white shirt from his tuxedo, though the bow tie and vest were gone. "Are you sure?" he asked as she fumbled with the buttons. "Please. I couldn't bear you being angry with me or regretful tomorrow."

"I want you. I want this," she answered simply. He clasped both of her hands in his, gazing solemnly into her eyes, then quietly tugged her into the direction of the hall leading to the master bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington has news for the rest of the task force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go: organic, locally-grown fiction!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except Elenna Davidson
> 
> Thank you again for all of your comments and kudos! Before I posted this story, I had never shown my writing to anyone except family and a few close friends. The response I have received has been a very welcome and happy surprise!

The next morning Liz woke to the sound of humming. She opened one bleary eye and winced at the sunlight streaming through the open blinds. Then the morning amnesia dissipated. Liz yawned and stretched luxuriously under the four hundred count sheets and smiled as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her heart skipped as she caught the sight of Red humming happily as he fixed his tie at the large mirror over the dresser.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" he exclaimed heartily as she sat up and her image appeared in the mirror. "I thought I would let you sleep in a little longer. Am I correct that your meeting isn't until ten?"

She acknowledged this with a nod. "What time is it?"

"7:45. I have a meeting this morning that unfortunately I can't reschedule. I'll need to leave in the next fifteen minutes if I want to make it in time through the horrendous DC traffic. Can you come back here after your meeting? Perhaps I should join you at the office instead. What do you wish, Lizzie?"

"Coffee," she said, rubbing her head where the hangover threatened the most.

He shrank for a minute, then smiled again in understanding. "I'm afraid our diurnal schedules might not be in synch, my dear. I retained just enough of the Navy to always rise with the sun. I'll order you some fresh coffee and juice. You'll want plenty of liquids and vitamin C to fight off the after-effects of your evening." He continued babbling even as he walked out of the room.

Liz glanced around and discovered his shirt from the previous night was in easy reach. She climbed down from the elegant four poster bed, intending to tame the Medusa yesterday's hairstyle had devolved into overnight. She slipped over to her room to investigate her overnight bag. There wouldn't be time to run back to her apartment and change before the meeting. She had a different blouse in the bag; she'd have to wear yesterday's suit again. Then she realized a new suit was hanging on the door, still in the plastic garment bag from its exclusive store. She carried it out to the main room to ask about its arrival.

He was just inside the front door of the suite, perusing the front page of the newspaper as he waited for her to come out to say their goodbyes. "I'm constantly amazed by the ability of this hotel to work magic at all hours," he declared in explanation. "But most importantly you don't need to rush back to your apartment to dress, so you have time to relax and enjoy a delicious breakfast." His eyebrows rose, and his mouth dropped open sightly as he realized she was still wearing only his dress shirt from the night before. "Dearest, you are going to make me inexcusably late for my meeting."

"How about I come by after work today? We'll need to meet to talk about all of latest developments, right?" she grinned as she pulled him close for a fast kiss. And pulled away before his hands could get too far under the shirt. "Go," she ordered brightly. "I'll see you this afternoon." He couldn't resist one more kiss, before grabbing his hat and opening the door. "Don't make any other plans for the evening. You'll be busy."

Liz folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the door, taking in the quiet of the suite in a moment of perfect contentment before carrying on with her day. Showering in the sumptuous master bathroom felt like an instant visit to paradise; she reluctantly turned off the hot water to dress quickly. She wanted to simmer the morning away in her new state of happiness, but it was time to return to the more serious parts of her reality.

Agent Keen had several items on her agenda before leaving for the office. First she tried reaching someone by hotel phone in the other suite. Aram answered after a number of rings, yawning and sheepishly apologizing for his rudeness. Ressler was still getting dressed. Elenna had stayed the night as well but had vacated her room earlier without telling anyone where she was going. Liz thanked him, teased him a little about hangovers, then hung up, biting her lip. She decided to eat downstairs, hopefully catching either Davidson or Ressler when they could still talk privately.  She had no regrets about Red, but she still wanted to set things right with the rest of her team.

When she arrived in the elegant breakfast room, Agent Davidson was already seated, newspaper in one hand and a steaming cappuccino in the other. She grinned, dropped her paper and motioned for her partner to take a seat at her table. Liz heaved a sigh of relief when she realized the other agent was wearing a new suit as well. "Bad Boy had a case of the guilts, I guess," she commented when she saw what had caught Liz's eye. "after dragging us here without a chance to pack. This breakfast is outstanding. God, this hotel is so nice. I'd love to stay here some night when it wasn't work-related."

"How are you feeling?" Liz asked.

Elenna shrugged around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "I never get a hangover. But I think the boys each spent quality time last night paying their respects at the porcelain throne. No solid food for either of them yet. How are you, Lizzie?"

"I'm all good," she answered honestly. Her coffee arrived and she savored the scent of it, breathing it in like a breeze from heaven.

Elenna's eyes narrowed. "Res came back last night really upset," she said. "I guess you guys said some things."

"We're not going to agree on everything," Liz replied calmly. "But I guess I owe him an apology. I know he meant well."

"He's your partner. He'll do anything in the world for you. Me too." Elenna added forcefully. "But Liz, if something would happen between you and .. him, don't tell us, okay? Don't put us in that position."

"Nothing happening," Liz announced quickly. "He's just the job."

"Good to hear," Elenna replied, offering her friend a wide, fake smile. They continued breakfast, chatting amiably now that they had shoved the elephant into the far corner of the room. Until the Nick's Pizza beep. Elenna bit her lip but said nothing as Liz quickly rose from her seat, meaning to answer outside the room in a more secluded location.

Before she could give a greeting, Dembe interrupted her. "I'm sorry Agent Keen, but there have been unfortunate developments. Agents Davidson and Ressler must go immediately with a full team to the house on Farnsworth street and take Raymond into custody. They will be observed so they must play their roles convincingly. I will text you the address of Raymond's contact from last night; you must take a team to arrest him as well and bring him to your facility."

"Okay," she answered, her mind whirling at the sudden change of direction. She hung up and raced back into the breakfast room. "Davidson, gotta move," she snapped. She explained about the call quickly as she dialed Ressler's number. He answered blearily, but snapped to attention when he understood what was happening.

"There must have been a leak," Elenna surmised. They were hustling to the elevator, both having left their badges and weapons locked in the safes of their suites.

"Red will fill us in when you get him back to the Post Office," Liz replied with confidence.

"Oh, I'll beat it out of him," the other agent replied without a trace of humor. Liz winced inwardly but made no reply.

Elenna found her partner dressed and ready to go, pacing outside of the suite. "I've got your weapon and badge. Let's go. Do you have the address?"

"Keen will send it to me on route," she replied smoothly, falling in with his fast pace back to the waiting elevator car. "She'll fill in Cooper, too. We just have to make the pick-up." They remained silent as they climbed into Davidson's four door sedan and peeled out of the garage. The ride to the safe house took twenty minutes, interrupted by calls back and forth to the Post Office as they coordinated timing. By the time they reached their destination a full back up team had arrived and was in place, ready to react if needed.

"You know he won't make this easy on us," Davidson commented as the car pulled to a stop on a side street half a block away from the house.

Ressler grinned. "That will make this even more fun. You take the front."

"At least we know Dembe isn't here. See you on the inside." They performed the classic operation with their usual professionalism. Within minutes both had bust through doors, weapons raised and calling out the warning that the FBI had arrived. Elenna found him first, calmly relaxing in the spacious library's overstuffed reading chair. Red held his weapon in his right hand calmly, but with perfect aim between the invading agent's eyes. He nodded very slightly in warning before he fired, she ducked fast enough for the bullet to graze inches to the right side of her head. He had flung himself out of the chair in the direction of the door, to meet up with Ressler in the hallway outside.

Ressler slammed Red face-first against the wall, his own weapon held to the back of the criminal's head. "FBI. You're under arrest." He leaned in to whisper, "You shouldn't give me any reason to pull the trigger, because that thought is very tempting right now.' Red said nothing, allowing the bigger agent to pull him roughly back into the library where Agent Davidson was waiting with cuffs.

"Happy day," she said as she clasped the cuffs roughly around his wrists. "The world is now a safer place. No Miranda rights for you, sweetheart. You're what the attorney general refers to as an enemy combatant." She called the office to report their success. Ressler played up the perp walk from the front door of the house, dragging Red off balance and causing him to stumble slightly on the way. The back up team had brought one of the official Escalades into the driveway for transporting the prisoner back to the office.

"They're in the house across the street," Red mumbled quietly. Ressler pulled him into the right position for a good view. "What's that, asshole? You're going to call your lawyer?" His punch landed on Red's right cheek, spinning him around and sending him crashing into the side of the car. "Oops, did you slip and hit your head? I'm so sorry, man." He pushed his prisoner into the car, hooking his handcuffs on a locked clip to prevent escape, and climbed in after him. Red awkwardly slid across the seat to gain same space between himself and his captor. The cut on his forehead was gushing blood now, dripping down to his right eye and stinging.

Elenna rode shotgun as another unfamiliar agent slid in behind the wheel. "Real enough for you?" she called to the back as the car engine started up.

"Perhaps Agent Ressler was a tad too enthusiastic. What have you heard from the other teams?"

"Your buddy is on route to the office as well. That was a little messier. We have some people down."

"Lizzie?" he breathed sharply.

Ressler replied when Davidson fell silent. "She's fine. But there had better been a damn good reason we pulled this together without any notice."

"I'll explain my reasons when we reach the facility," Red replied with finality.

The rest of the ride was silent. The handcuffs remained in place as the agents escorted Red through the entrance to the facility. In the elevator both men kept their gazes locked on opposite walls as Davidson checked messages on her phone. The elevator doors opened on to the main floor in a state of barely controlled chaos. Liz was huddled with her boss, Agent Harold Cooper, half listening to his rant about the difficulty of suddenly running two simultaneous operations, while nursing her own fears silently. She had been surreptitiously listening for the clanks of the arriving elevator car and its contents and turned immediately when the doors slid open. She startled involuntarily when she realized Red had been hurt and the likely source of his injuries. She clenched her hands, forcing herself to walk slowly towards the arrivals and school her expression into professional concern.

"Agent Ressler is a good actor," Red assured her. "Very good at faking police brutality."

"Hell, you shot at me. Again," Agent Davidson snapped in reply.

He shrugged. "I knew I could trust your excellent reflexes. You are truly gifted in the martial arts, Agent Davidson, a rare warrior. Harold! How are you?"

Harold Cooper's expression would have intimidated anyone else. "Last night everything was on schedule. What changed?"

"Oh, it's a long story, and you know how I like to talk with my hands. Can I be released, please?" Cooper nodded to Davidson, who complied with obvious reluctance. Red stretched his arms in relief, than pulled out his handkerchief to wipe away the blood that was still dripping down the side of his face and neck. For the first time he caught Liz' eye; his mask of uncaring flickered away only for a moment. Both turned away before the other agents could sense their interaction.

"I thought everything was in place for Thursday," Ressler continued the interrogation.

"As did I, last night," Red returned. "But as I was attending to other business this morning, I realized something very strange was happening." He was rubbing his wrists and glancing with concern around the war room. The usual number of low level agents and assistants were at work, plus a number of agents involved with the morning raids were still busily milling about. "I would like to finish this conversation in a more discreet location. I suggest we move this little party to Harold's office. Before we do I would like to step out and make a few private calls."

Cooper flashed his usual half perturbed, half bemused expression he reserved for the times Reddington commandeered a meeting. "You may not leave this facility."

"Of course not, Harold, that was not my plan. Remember, I chose to be brought here and be manhandled and handcuffed like a common criminal. I'm simply going to borrow Lizzie's phone and office for a few minutes of quiet conversation." This time he faced her directly with the bland expression she used to find so irritating. Wordlessly she passed him her mobile, feeling her heart catch in her throat as lovely memories floated across her imagination. "I'm not quite sure of the location of your little domicile," he started.

"I'm heading that way myself," Elenna interjected as she stepped between them, impatiently urging him to follow with a wave of her hand.

Ressler stepped up behind Liz, laying a hand on her shoulder to stop her from following. "Can we talk?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, of course," Liz replied quickly. "Walk with me to the break room. My head is pounding a little and I think we still have..."

He stopped her; his blue eyes icier than normal. "I mean sit down for a real conversation, Keen, just the two of us. Can we do that this afternoon?"

"Sure," she replied, swallowing reflectively. "Yes, we need to do that."

"Agreed," he answered. Cooper had been conversing with one of the agents responsible for interviewing Mack. He joined their company shaking his head in disbelief at what he just learned. "This is going from bad to worse very quickly," he declared. "Reddington better give us something useful for his own sake."

The three of them reached the office after Red and Elenna had already set up shop. Davidson had her phone in her hand and laptop open on the desk, speaking and typing simultaneously and vigorously. Red was at the office's window, gazing into the distance as he silently ruminated on his morning.

He turned and smiled wistfully when they entered. "I am the bearer of very bad news," he started before all of the arrivals were able to take a seat. He wanted to focus his gaze on Lizzie; it was his usual habit and would be noticeable if broken, but he didn't dare. He could feel her presence in the room, and it was giving him the support he needed to continue. "This morning I had a meeting with some rather unsavory characters. It was a simple business, really, until they mentioned a bit of gossip. I'm not the only one in the weaponized uranium business, of course. It's lucrative, and thanks to the fall of the Soviet empire, there are simply piles of unaccounted for weapons and supplies spread across the breakaway republics. Apparently there has been a dramatic increase in the movement of these supplies during the last three days. I have several competitors in the business. We're not buddies, but we chat sometimes about business. So after my meeting, I contacted one of them directly, telling him my supplier was currently a little low in his inventory and wouldn't be able to stock in time, so I hoped he could make a deal with me to make up my shortfall. He couldn't; he just received a big contract to deliver several packages to Los Angeles this Thursday."  He paused for a sip of his coffee, and to let his message sink in.  

"So I nosed around a little. At least four dealers have been approached, and as I believe I am the only one to have no intention of actually delivering material, as it stands someone has arranged for enough material for at minimum six nuclear detonations to arrive in the United States within forty-eight hours."

"Was it Mack's people that approached them?" Elenna asked first. Her face had paled slightly but her voice remained professional despite his revelation.

"That would have made this much easier. My contact this morning was approached by different liaison representing a minor terrorist group in South America. I suspect there is a much bigger player behind this, manipulating other groups to commit their atrocities for them." The room was silent for a moment, each agent processing this unwelcome revelation as best they could.

"We need to work Mack and find out who hired him," Ressler announced. He stood up, ready to take over the interrogation himself that moment.

Cooper shook his head. "So far we've gotten nothing out of him." Cooper reported. "We're working every lead we can but so far we've got nothing except Reddington's meeting with him last night."

"Can you contact the other dealers?" Davidson demanded from their new prisoner.

Red shook his head. As he was speaking he had kept Lizzie at the edge of his visual field.  The anxiety in her eyes made his nonchalant facade so much harder to maintain, and even more necessary.  "Apparently we weren't meant to know others had made similar deals. If I lean too obviously it will bring suspicion and we can't afford that right now."

"That's why you had us bring you into custody," Liz surmised.

He nodded slightly.  "I'm not ready to drop our agreement yet nor have it exposed to the world. Whoever has arranged this will assume that I would never give up any useful intel despite what interesting persuasive techniques you would choose to implement, so there will be no blowback on me afterwards.  But Mack will break, and rather quickly, I imagine. The FBI can do its usual outstanding investigative work and break this plot wide open without exposing me. My people will run their investigation concurrently. I intend to share all of their results with you, and I expect the same openness in return."

"And of course you'll miraculously escape custody after all the fun is over," Davidson retorted.

Red spread his hands and shrugged. "Of course. I will enjoy planning the great escape during all of those lonely hours down in one of those utilitarian holding cells. To which I'm sure you're planning to deliver me shortly and start the inquisition. Which of you will take the first turn as Torquemada?"

Cooper faced in turn each of his agents. "Ressler will escort you down now. Agent Davidson, I want you on the South American group, see what we can get from that angle. We'll need Homeland on this one so I'll get on the phone and make things happen. Agent Keen, you'll be the coordinator with Reddington's people. Keep me in the loop with whatever you learn. Two days, people. We have to stop these deliveries before their final destinations."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red returns to custody at the Post Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still having fun posting - I hope you are having fun reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Elenna Davidson is still mine, the others are still not.
> 
> All comments and kudos are appreciated and celebrated by me dancing around the living room and singing along with AC/DC's "Back in Black".

 

Ressler said nothing during the journey into the depths of the Post Office to the secluded wing reserved for holding cells. For most of the time he merely walked next to his captive, who was uncharacteristically quiet as well. When they reached the locked door leading to the holding cell area, he pulled out the cuffs again. Red obediently turned to allow the agent to secure his wrists.

"Mack's in the last cell on the right," Ressler muttered as he entered the code for the secured door. He grabbed Red's upper right arm and pulled him roughly through the doorway towards a door halfway down the hall on the left. The cells were the same as any prison cell, with simple amenities, but were in addition sound-proofed so that fellow inmates could not communicate, and shielded from any outside electronic communication. "I'll be back for you in an hour," the agent stated before locking the prisoner into his cell. "Think hard about what you want to tell me."

"I'm looking forward to a stimulating conversation," Red replied evenly, and settled in for the wait.

Ressler instead had a pair of guards escort Reddington from his cell up one floor to one of the interrogation rooms. As the door clicked behind him, Red took a moment to study the small chamber and immediately noted the mirrored wall. He had changed from his soiled suit into one of the simple grey uniforms that had been placed for his use in his cell. His reflection could have been that of a stranger.  He rarely wore anything besides his usual costume of expensive suit and hat, and this was only the second time in his life he'd seen himself in prison wear. He knew Lizzie wasn't behind the mirror, but he was quite sure Cooper was, and likely at least one of his superiors had swooped into the office at the news of his 'capture'.

Ressler was waiting for him in one of the room's two metal chairs, impatiently tapping his pen against the table. Red took the seat opposing him, with a tight smile that immediately made Ressler's frown deepen.

"Are you sure you want to keep a weapon in my reach?" Red motioned to the pen with a tilt of his head.

"Tell me about the meeting last night. Who set it up?" Ressler fixed him with an impatient glare.

"You already know that story, Don. Ask me something new."

"There's a problem with your story, Reddington. Mack claims you set this up, offered to sell him weapons material that he righteously refused. He claims to have proof."

"What kind of proof could he offer?" Red was interested. He hadn't expected this tactic.

"Proof that you came to his hotel before dawn with another offer. He says he's got witnesses of you listing several locations in the city you wanted to use as epicenters for the explosions."

"So you've learned nothing useful from Mack so far." Red leaned back in his seat, fingering the edge of the table. "I miss Agent Malik. She had that special touch in situations like this."

"I'm saying that just maybe I should listen to Mack." Red glanced to the one way mirror. Ressler followed his shift in attention and shook his head. "No one's in there, and the recording equipment is off. It's just the two of us talking now. And I'm thinking I'm going to visit these witnesses and see if I finally have proof you've been double crossing us."

"You know quite well I never left the suite last night," Red answered sharply. His brows furled as he made a sudden connection. "And you realize I can easily produce a reliable alibi for that time period. Do you really want to bring her into this situation, Don?"

Ressler abruptly jumped up from his seat, moving to stand in front of the one way mirror, hands clenched at his side. Red turned in his seat to observe him. "We're bringing in some other experts from other ... departments to help with the investigation."

"Oh good, torture!" Red replied with evident pleasure. "Mack is a bit of a physical coward, I think this will help out our cause tremendously. Of course I'll have my turn as well, right, Agent Ressler?"

"You volunteered to come in, remember?"

"I did. I will bear my resulting wounds with honor. Are we finished?"

"Yeah, I'll have you returned to the cell. We'll pass on information as it comes in." He returned to the table to gather his things. Red laid a hand on the folder, stopping the agent in his rushed movements. Ressler raised his eyes level with the other man's for the first time in the interview.

Red's expression was uncharacteristically kind. "Focus on the mission, Agent Ressler." he advised softly. "Don't let your emotions distract you from our duty. Not to be overly dramatic, but we have two days in which to stop the apocalypse and I strongly suggest we keep that highest in our thoughts."

"I'm always focused on the mission. And I don't have emotions," Ressler replied in a monotone. Words he betrayed by the slamming of the door behind him as he stormed out of the room.

 

Ressler allowed himself ten minutes in the relative calmness of the break room before he returned to the war room. He knew the room would now fully live up to its name; news of the potential terrorist threats had risen quickly up the chain of command and out to their sister letter agencies. Since they held two main players of the plot in custody, the Post Office was rapidly becoming the center of the intelligence world. He sipped at his fourth cup of coffee for the day, regretful that he had only managed five hours of sleep the night before. He tried to distract himself from his raging thoughts, reading the notices posted on the bulletin board by the fridge. Like any office gathering place, there were relevant humorous cartoons ripped from the paper, and pleading messages for someone to take one or more of an unplanned family of kittens. And a notice from Elenna looking for yet another after-hours martial arts sparring partner.

"Hey," a soft voice interrupted his study. He turned around to find Liz in the doorway.

"Crazy day, huh?" she added with a humorless laugh.

"Yeah. How are you?" he asked with real concern. She looked even more exhausted than he felt. She had at some point abandoned the jacket of her suit, and had pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail.

"I've been in touch with Dembe. He's got all of Red's best people on this, trying to work his network to find out the targets. The best we got is some gossip bouncing around the criminal world not to visit Seattle anytime this weekend."

"Shit," Ressler looked down at his empty cup.

"Yeah. I'm taking my phone down to Red. Dembe wants to speak with him directly." She fell silent for a minute, gathering her courage. "So, we need to talk."

He drew in a big breath and exhaled. "Yeah, we do. But not now. Right now we have to focus on our jobs." Ressler paused before adding, "But Liz, I wasn't so drunk I forgot everything you said."

"I knew you wouldn't," she sighed.

He threw his empty styrofoam cup in the garbage can. "If you hurry he's probably still in interview room B."

Liz was lucky; the guards were just leading Red out of the chamber when she arrived. "I have some questions for Mr. Reddington," she informed them, waving her badge at the unfamiliar men as her admittance ticket. She quickly checked the attached audience room to make sure they were alone, and confirmed that all of the recording equipment was turned off. He leaned against the closed room door and imagined her as a wild songbird accidentally caught in the chamber who would eventually find an open window.

Finally she approached and pulled him into a tight embrace, snuggling her face into the warmth of his shoulder. He laid a series of kisses on the top of her head and anywhere else he could reach, clenching his eyes shut to hold back any other expressions of emotion. So they remained for much longer than they should, willing the risk the chance of observation so that they could feel some comfort during this horrific day.

"I'm so sorry, Raymond," she muttered against the hairs of his neck.

"For what, my dearest?" he whispered back.

She forced herself to pull away from the sanctity of his encircling arms, so she could lightly touch the cut above his forehead. "For this, and whatever other abuse my team mates heaped on you this morning."

"They act out of their concern for you, sweetheart. I find it rather endearing." He ran his fingers across her cheek, pleased by the smile he received in return. "I'm sorry that this day has gone in a much different direction than I had intended when I left you this morning. I had wonderful plans for us this evening, Lizzie."

She shivered slightly as his voice roughened during the last sentence. "Damn terrorists."

"I agree with your sentiments completely." He kissed her abruptly, deepening the kiss for one powerful moment before breaking away. "But my Lizzie is a brilliant agent who would not have come to visit the imprisoned informant without good reason."

"Dembe wants to speak with you," she replied, pulling her phone out of her pants pocket. "He's been trying to reach anyone in your network with information."

"I doubt I can do any better than he did, but I will try," Red glanced at the phone before placing it in his own pocket. "Is there anything else with which I can help you?"

"Raymond," she hadn't intended on ever using his name within a professional context, but it was already comforting on her tongue, like her favorite candy from childhood. "I burned your letter."

"Thank you," he grasped her hand in gratitude. "The sentiments I can write for you again and again if you like, but I prefer the other information never leaves a trace."

"Do you think this series of events is an action by your enemies?" Liz asked. She hoped she was wrong, but his face aged suddenly by decades and she knew he had reached the same opinion.

"That is what I can check that Dembe can't," he answered. "I believed the timeline was still years in advance and we had time for my schemes to work."

She turned away for a minute for a deep breath, then turned back to him. "Do you think we can stop this in time?" Her voice caught a little at the end of her question.

His eyes softened as he reached out to clasp her hands tightly in his. "We will," his voice was gentle, but firm in his surety. "Because my life already changed yesterday in wondrous ways, and I am not going to let anyone change it again."

 

Reddington had never been a heavy sleeper, and his life on the run had reinforced his natural inclination to waken quickly at any threatening noises. By the time the key had finished turning in the lock to his cell door, he was already sitting up on his bunk, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap. He blinked at the sudden flash of the overhead light but showed no surprise as Elenna Davidson entered his cell alone.

"Hello, Agent Davidson," he greeted. "How may I help you?" He grimaced slightly at the radical change the agent had undergone since he last saw her, twelve hours previously. Elenna usually wore her hair in a tidy professional bun; now it was in a messy pile atop her head, with loose auburn tendrils falling to her fatigued red eyes. Her suit jacket was long gone; her shirt was untucked, wrinkled, and stained with drips from her take-out dinner. Agent Davidson was infamous at the office for the extra hours she spent in weapons practice and hand-to-hand combat training. Despite this, usually her movements around the office were relaxed or nearly languid, offering no hint of the physical dexterity she had honed over the years. Now her posture was as rigid and alert as if she were on the practice floor; her eyes found his in the florescent glow of his cell, and her focus was unnerving. Her heels clicked rhythmically on the tile floor as she strode towards him, stopping to cross her arms and glare at him with the same attitude she would regard a cockroach in her kitchen. He kept his expression mildly interested, though underneath he was worried. Something must have happened.

"You need to come upstairs with me now," she ordered. She hadn't bothered to bring handcuffs or any other clues to demonstrate his role as a prisoner. He noted her lack of preparation along with the coldness in her clover-green eyes.

"What has happened?" he demanded. Sensing her urgency he didn't resist obeying her command as he normally would, but pulled on his shoes and socks as she waited, arms crossed, gazing around the room as she internally previewed her words. Finally he grabbed his watch and was ready to go. She glanced down the hall to make sure the guards weren't in sight, then keeping a grip on his arm she led him down the corridor to the exit from the detention rooms.

Her grip was tighter than necessary; Red squirmed a little as her fingers dug into muscle. She didn't let go nor acknowledge him at all as they traveled back up to the empty war room. The Post Office was deserted; she had sent home the few other remaining holdouts half an hour previously.

He gazed around in wonder. "Where are all of the others, Agent Davidson? Why are you here alone?"

"We had some intel come in within the last few hours," she admitted. She leaned heavily against a computer desk, and motioned for him to sit in the seat in front of the monitor. She closed her eyes, willing the threatening fatigue to back off for just a few more hours so that she could get something accomplished before collapsing. "Cooper's over at the White House sit room. We've got teams up in New York and Boston working the harbors there. Liz and Don are on route to Baltimore. They found traces of radioactive material left in an empty shipping container on a cargo ship there."

"When was the ship unloaded?" Red asked immediately.

"Yesterday. That material could have been delivered to any number of cities by now."

"But most likely they would bring it to DC," he replied immediately.

Elenna rarely made eye contact with Reddington, but her blood-shot eyes bored into him now. "Liz called. They need someone who can help identify the specific type of material and hopefully trace it back to a source. Who do you know?"

Red thought for a moment and grimaced. "The best people live in Eastern Europe, but I wouldn't be able to bring anyone back here to the site before late morning."

"Give me names and locations, and the military can get them here a lot faster than your jet," she retorted.

"That won't work, either. These individuals will not consent to fly on an American plane," he told her. She had her favorite ceramic coffee cup in hand. She smashed it down on the table in frustration, splashing liquid over the keyboard and adding to its collection of chips.

"God dammit, can't you give me something useful!" she snapped. "Why the hell are you here if you can't be any help at all?" She clenched her hands, took in a deep cleansing breath and let it go. When she turned back to him her emotions were firmly under lock and key again. "We have people in Nevada. I'll bring them in instead. We have to hope that they plan to enact all of the explosions at the same time, so that we still have at least twenty-four hours. Even our best tools won't be able to find the material once it hits city limits."

He accepted this with a silent nod. Elenna frowned at the mess on the keyboard then stormed off to the makeshift coffee station and grabbed a pile of napkins. She yanked the keyboard from its wire connector and began to dab vigorously at the rivulets of coffee. "You should go home and rest, Agent Davidson." Red advised her.

Elenna huffed humorlessly in reply. "What? Leave the office empty? Or should I put you in charge? I'm sure you would be heroic in your endeavors to save the county you abandoned."

He sighed. "All of the aid I have given this task force time and time again, the personal risks I have taken, and you still can't bring yourself to give me a modicum of trust?"

She threw the sopping wet napkins in the garbage can. "Of course I don't trust you. I never will." She dropped to a seat next to him, uncomfortably close considering her dangerous mood. "You know something about this you're not telling us. I can feel it. And you are going to tell me." she stated, examining every flicker of his expression as she spoke.

He maintained his calm bemused facade only through the ease of long practice. Instincts took over; he casually rose from his seat to investigate the ancient pot of coffee as a cover to remove himself to a safer distance. He poured himself half a cup, letting her words linger in the air as he studied his options for responses. Finally Red turned back to her. "Agent Davidson, go home. Get some sleep. You can personally lock me back in my cell to be sure I can commit no harm while you are gone."

"I can't," she answered honestly. "I guess you can snooze like a baby through this, but I can't stop until I know this threat is over. Millions could die, Reddington. Do you even care?"

"I do," Red answered with a flash of anger. "I care very much. I suppose that you and most of your colleagues would find that surprising. Mack's people also assumed I would willingly provide the means to bring widespread death and destruction to the country of my birth. But I am here doing what I can to prevent this catastrophe. Why else would I be here, Agent Davidson?"

"I can't begin to fathom why you do what you do," she replied bitterly.

Red shook his head, "I've never harmed you personally. Why do you harbor such hatred for me, Elenna?"

"Treason," she retorted immediately. "Murder. Theft, bribery, trafficking in weapons of mass destruction. Counterfeiting. But you lost me at treason. And you don't use my first name."

"Yes, treason was my first crime," he allowed. "I shall also admit to several unpaid speeding tickets in Maryland."

He couldn't distract her. Her anxieties had found a place to land. "You sold state secrets to the first bidder. Not even the highest bidder, just the first guy who would give you money to betray your country. Why?"

"I had my reasons," he answered simply. "If I can be of no use here, please allow me to return to my quarters, Agent Davidson." He moved to leave the scene, but she followed closely behind.

"What did you tell Liz?" she demanded. "Keen is a good agent, you must have told her something she could rationalize as a excuse to trust you. Let me guess, something tragic. Did you make yourself into some kind of romantic hero?"

He turned on his heel and stormed away as she spoke. She raced behind him and stopped him by yanking him back by his right arm. He pulled away with an angry snarl. "Even with your sordid past I could have worked with you," she informed him, "but then you ruined her, Reddington. She could have been an excellent agent and more importantly happy, but you have destroyed all chances of that now. What did you think, the two of you would someday ride off into the sunset together?"

Red turned away, to avoid facing her and admitting to the truth of her accusations. She shook her her head in derision, guessing his thoughts. "I'll tell you what, Reddington. I'll make this easy for you. Tell me what you know, then walk out the door. I will happily take the blame for letting you get away. Leave this God-forsaken doomed city behind you, get on your jet and go somewhere the fuck else. But leave her behind and let her have something that approaches a chance for a normal life. If you stay, I will still find out what else you are hiding and I will burn you with it."

"You are a talented agent, but I don't think you'll be the one to learn all of my secrets," he said finally. "I'm returning downstairs. Goodnight."

"If I don't get the answers from you," she threatened his departing back. "I can get them from Liz. I will do anything to stop these detonations, Reddington, and I think you have an idea what that means coming from me. You want her in the interrogation room instead?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this puppy is growing again... now I think I'll be able to wrap it up in twelve chapters. 
> 
> The legal bit: Elenna Davidson is mine, the other characters belong to their legitimate owners.
> 
> Kudos and comments will still result in me happily dancing around the living room.

 

 

Since his upsetting conversation with Agent Davidson early that morning, Reddington had been abandoned alone in his dark, utilitarian holding cell. He wanted to contact some of his people directly, but there wasn't even cell phone coverage down in the Post Office basement for his purloined burner cell, and the current batch of guards didn't include any of his hastily turned moles to relay any messages to or from the outside. So he had nothing to do but lie for hours in the darkness of the cell with his hands clasped behind his head, fully dressed on top of the rough wool-blanketed cot, searching for the best exit out of this growing maze for himself and especially Lizzie.

Later that morning, when the day shift of guards arrived for duty, Reddington asked them to deliver an urgent message to Agent Cooper, seeking an immediate private meeting, and waited impatiently for a reply. He hoped for some companionship and news since the Post Office returned to activity with the rising sun, but he was disappointed.  Agent Keen did not visit him, a decision he approved intellectually but saddened him all the same.  Davidson and Ressler both kept their distance as well, so Red had more hours of silent contemplation time in his cell to think about Davidson's threat and formulate a new plan. He had one interruption; Lizzie had arrived at the blacksite carrying a small overnight case and garment bag, claiming that Dembe had packed it and asked for her to arrange its delivery to his employer. The guards had searched the contents carefully before completing its delivery, and now Red had a fresh suit and hat to wear as well as a razor blade, a small lock-picking kit, and a locator chip he could easily plant on himself or others if he decided it would be useful.

They hadn't even bothered to send him to the interrogation room for his daily round with the CIA team. He assumed this meant that the Company had given up on grilling their uncooperative captives, and were instead investigating other means to gain intel about possible bomb locations. He wished they hadn't stopped his interrogations; much of what he had learned in the previous twenty-four hours had come from their poorly worded questions instead of through the proper channels he had been promised. They had approximately 24 hours left until all of the material would be delivered and dispersed and thus nearly impossible to trace.

Upon his return from the troubling morning White House briefing, Cooper received Red's message and agreed to bring him up to his office for a discussion. Red was delivered to the office by an unfamiliar pair of suspicious guards, who kept confirming with the agent in charge that he did indeed wish to be alone with the prisoner.

"What do you want, Reddington?" Cooper demanded as soon as he was escorted in by the guards. He waved the guards away as soon as they had released the now-standard cuffs.

"Arrange to transfer Mack and me to another facility within the next two hours," he replied immediately. Today he had chosen to slouch back in one of Cooper's office chairs for the duration of the conversation. Like everyone else, he was exhausted from fear and lack of sleep, with the additional burden of hours of enforced isolation.

"Why?"

Red smiled brightly. "Because we're both going to escape. My people will pick us up and take over the interrogations." Cooper tilted his head in bewilderment, and motioned for him to continue. "Your people are hampered, Harold. Even in these extraordinary circumstances they will follow the laws of this nation and international standards on the treatment of prisoners. My people will operate under no such limitations. He'll talk for me."

"You're asking me to send a prisoner in my custody into unregulated torture?" Cooper was under no illusions what would happen to Brendan Mack.

Red shrugged. "Five cities, Agent Cooper. Tomorrow, or maybe today. Perhaps we have until Friday. Do you really have qualms about the treatment of one terrorist?"

"I can't agree to this," Cooper swallowed deeply. "My superiors would never agree to this."

"What other options are on the table now?" Red asked. He leaned forward in his seat, focusing all of his energy through his gaze across the desk. "Do you have any trace of the material? Locations?"

"We have some leads..." Cooper started, then dropped his eyes and admitted the weakness of the leads with a shrug.

"I'll need to contact Dembe and make arrangements on my end. Plan for the transfer to take place within two hours. My people will make their moves on route, so this location and the transfer site will remain secured." Reddington was quite pleased when Cooper nodded slowly in defeat.

He rose to his feet, then paused. "I have an additional request. I will need Agent Keen to immediately travel to Baltimore to meet with a contact there. I will give her the address and time of her appointment, but I expect that she will need to remain there for a number of days."

"What contact is this?" Cooper's suspicions rose again. "I thought you were going to share all of your intel with us."

"This contact is ... special," Red returned. "I can't risk exposing this source through the bumbling of your organization. Agent Keen can complete this task quite well on her own."

Harold Cooper was a very intelligent and practical man. And, as his wife praised him often, gifted with extraordinary emotional sensitivity for a man. He had harbored the same suspicions as the rest of his team about their informant's intentions and inexplicable behavior to their innocent fellow agent. But now Cooper was starting to get the uncomfortable idea that maybe one of his theories was wrong.

It had been a long time since he looked closely at his nemesis, literally or figuratively. Cooper had stuck Reddington in a real glass box that first day, and a metaphorical one as well. He was the untrustworthy traitor to his country; a poisonous snake that could be milked for some anti-venom, but with no other redeeming qualities. Cooper had had no other option at the time but to let this snake loose on his brand new agent. He could never publicly express his relief and amusement when that agent took first blood with a simple pen, but he worried much less about her after that. This was a woman willing to turn her own husband in for CIA questioning; exactly the kind of cold rationality and impartiality he treasured in his agents. Even during the months traveling on their own in Europe he knew Keen was still loyal to the job above anything else including her traveling companion.  When his intuitions starting nagging him about the emotional state of his agent concerning the informant, he still trusted Keen to remain professionally detached. People who work together in difficult situations develop feelings; he had seen enough agent partnerships grow and change or shatter because of emotional shifts. But Keen was too smart to allow any feelings to affect her work.

Cooper glanced again across his desk. He had never before imagined that the informant could have developed real feelings for the agent. But underneath all of the careful facade and outrageous bluster, Raymond Reddington had a second goal in mind when he arrived in the AD's office that morning, more vital to him than arranging the false escape.

"Agent Keen would then be safely away from any possible explosions within the city." When needed Cooper could more than match Red's ability to maintain an unreadable expression.

Red's eyes flickered enough to confirm the new theory. "That would be a possible benefit for her, I agree. Though I intend to make sure there will be no detonations to worry about. I will remain in the city for the duration of this event."

"As will the rest of us. But you may send Keen on your mission. You can use my office to brief her; I will send her up here momentarily." He rose from his seat, casting one last look towards his nemesis. The facade had fallen out of place; Red had allowed himself one moment to let relief flow across his weary features. "I sent my wife and family to Philadelphia last night. I can better focus on my work knowing the people I love are safe. " Cooper confided softly from the doorway, and walked away before the startled Red could reply.

 

Liz grabbed a moment to stand up and stretch, rubbing at the tension coiled in her aching neck and shoulders. Her office chair was no help; it had developed a noticeable tilt backwards after she had slammed down into it yesterday afternoon and she hadn't sacrificed the time yet to switch it out with another version of it from storage. On her desk two burner cells rested next to her own personal mobile; she had too many people to keep in constant contact to rely on one line. She was getting to know Red's organization quite well. He had a number of good people acting as his next in command across the globe, some in very surprising places of authority. Each of them had standing orders to comply with her requests without question, but with all of their extraordinary efforts, no one could break through the wall of silence that enclosed all of the actors in this plot. Red's people were used to being the scariest folks on the block; it unnerved them that someone else was so frightening that they could convince so many people to keep their secrets.

Ressler was in a similar state at his desk. He had spent the morning on the phone as well, working every source he ever had in the shipping business, hoping someone would notice something strange or unusual to give them any kind of new lead. Thousands of containers came in to the country daily; the vast majority were never searched before unloading. And it was also very possible the shipments could come in through Canada or Mexico or the Caribbean and be covertly brought across unguarded access points of the borders. He glanced up at his office mate. His previous concerns for her seemed almost quaint now.

A polite knock on the open door snapped up both of their heads. "Agent Keen?" Agent Cooper had never made an appearance in their personal office before. He looked around for a moment with slight curiosity before continuing. "You're needed in my office."

"Is there any news?" she asked wearily, grabbing her suit jacket from the back of her chair. Meetings in the boss' office usually meant superiors were onsite and still worth the formality of the jacket. She had gone through the usual motions of dressing that morning in her apartment, holding on to her routine as a lifeline pulling her back from despair and exhaustion. Though she had spent most of the night in what would have been Red's safe house, had he not put himself into custody. Dembe had also followed his usual routine and arranged for the move from the hotel to the house. He had greeted her with a gentle welcome when she had presented herself late in the evening on the doorstep, tired and hungry and lonely. He had urged her to make herself at home as he prepared a simple late supper for the both of them. They chatted over the meal, banishing their concerns for several hours and instead sharing funny stories and other fond memories of adventures with their common friend. Then Dembe excused himself to return to work after urging her to take a few needed hours to rest. She gave in after his solemn promise to wake her immediately in case of any developing intel. Liz felt Red's comforting presence as she slept in one of his dress shirts alone in the giant master bedroom, buoying herself up for the coming day.

Lost in the haze of her memories, she was several steps into Cooper's office before she realized Red was waiting for her inside.  Her face broke into a relieved smile she quickly smothered, terrified her boss would see her improper joyful reaction. His attention had been focused elsewhere though; he didn't see Red's pleased expression at her arrival either. Cooper advised her to keep the meeting brief, then closed the door behind her and ordered the guards to follow him. Both remained still, cautiously listening for movement outside of the door. As three sets of footsteps retreated away, both moved at once toward each other. "This room is safe, Lizzie. No one will see us here," Red informed her seconds before his lips fell on hers.

She gave in completely to his embrace, letting him gently lead her backwards until she felt Cooper's desk behind her as a welcome support. All of the nervous energy had drained out of her; she felt that she would drop to the floor if she didn't have him to hold her on her feet. Fingers began to wriggle underneath suit jackets and buttons, seeking comfort through physical contact. Both knew this was the wrong time and place, but neither were willing to be the adult and stop the pleasant reunion.

Finally Liz pulled away, gasping slightly for breath. "Cooper's office," she reminded him wryly.

He smirked in reply. "The scene of several of my naughty fantasies. But I agree, now would not be the proper time." He pulled away from her reluctantly.  Both took a moment to reassemble disheveled clothing and cool down their emotions. Liz turned back to see him still beaming at her with undeniable affection. "Dear Lizzie, I promise we'll have time and opportunity soon enough. But we have some work to do first."

"I assume Cooper briefed you on the latest," she answered with reluctance. "The shipment from Baltimore. We have people coming in from Los Alamos right now to test the traces."

"Agent Davidson filled me in early this morning," he explained. "I have someone you should meet with in Baltimore, Lizzie. Cooper has agreed that you should leave immediately. Pack for a couple of days. You can stay at the Hempstead house, Lizzie, I know you're quite fond of the old place."

"Who am I meeting?" she asked.

He swallowed, hoping that he wasn't yet as transparent to her as he feared. "You'll learn all of the relevant details when you arrive. Please, you need to leave quite soon in order to reach the city in time for your appointment."

She blinked rapidly and suddenly frowned and backed away. "This is just an excuse to get me out of the city. No."

His shoulders sunk in response. "Please, Lizzie."

Now she was growing angry. "I am a FBI agent assigned to a task force and I will do my job just like any other agent. You don't get to treat me like a possession, Raymond."

"You are far more to me than a possession, Elizabeth," he had grown angry as well as his fears rebounded.

"I'm staying here. End of discussion." She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "Now I want to hear some plans for finding the uranium."

"You can contribute just as much to the investigation from Baltimore as from here." he countered, then threatened in desperation as the ferocity grew in her eyes. "I'll cut you off from my people's intel if you stay, Lizzie. You will only remain involved in the investigation if you leave the city."

"What happened, Red?" she demanded. She stepped away from him to take a seat in one of Cooper's office chairs. His heart shrank even farther as she regressed to her professional facade. "Something changed."

"I promised you once that I would do anything in my power to keep you safe," he answered. "And so I will."

She shook her head with a rueful smile. "That has never stopped you from putting me in danger, it just makes you work harder to get me out of it. You also promised to never lie to me, either, and I'm including lies of omission now. What happened?"

"Agent Davidson believes I have relevant information I haven't shared." he answered, sinking into the chair next to her with a sigh. "And she is convinced that you now have this hypothetical information as well. She thinks you're at least tainted by association with me, and I believe she suspects your loyalties are ... changed. She intends to question you, Lizzie, and I fear it won't be on friendly terms."

"Sounds like Elenna. When she hooks on a lead she doesn't let go," Liz replied with a mix of admiration and resignation. "If I run I look guilty. I can handle her, Raymond," she assured him. "I won't give up anything about your letter. You trusted me with that and I will not betray your trust. What else aren't you telling me?"

She thought by now she had seen the entire range of Reddington's emotions. To her shock, he lowered his eyes for a moment. When he turned to face her again, his eyes were filled with tears. "My daughter was murdered, I was betrayed and abandoned by my wife. I'm well aware how it feels to lose someone I love," he stated slowly.  He clenched the arms of his chair, willing himself to say each word as dispassionately as possible as he felt the wave of her sudden understanding. "I cannot go through that hell again."

He slipped from his seat to kneel on the ground before her chair to take her hands tightly in his. "In the next few hours I will need to accomplish a number of impossible things so that I can fix this horrible situation. I will have a much lower chance of success if I am hampered by my fears of losing you."  He chuckled without humor.  "So many have wanted to gain control over me all of these years.  Only you have, my dear Lizzie. Use your power wisely; don't send me disabled into battle but let me go with the security of knowing the woman I love is safe."

"Oh, Raymond," she sighed, and nodded slightly in defeat.

"Now I can go work some miracles," he assured her, rising first to his feet than offering her his hand as she stood. "I am not sharing all of the details of my plans with you, my dearest, for the sake of plausible deniability with your co-workers. I promise I will contact you in Baltimore as soon as my work is accomplished. Until then it is time for both of us to carry on." He smiled in relief throughout their series of gentle good-bye kisses.

"I love you, Raymond," she murmured into his smile.  "And I trust you.  I'll see you in Baltimore soon."

 

Red's favorite planner for extrusion events was a ex-motorcycle gang member named George Waters, usually referred to as the Seagull for his ability to swoop in without warning and grab his object of desire from unsuspecting hands. Luckily he had been at home in Virginia when Red contacted him and was able to spring into action quickly. Escape plans from the Post Office had been the highest priority items on his task list since Red had surrendered over a year ago: the Seagull had his team already familiar with the surrounding area and over twelve functional versions of a master plan to remove their boss from the facility. Version thirteen, the extraction of two people from moving vehicles, was easily formulated and ready to launch at the final command of one of the primary targets.  Cooper held up his end of the bargain; he didn't even plan for a final destination for their vehicles, he simply pulled in a few of the guards and informed them that they would be secretly moving their detainees to a new location within half an hour.

The prisoners were escorted separately to their armored cars under heavy security. Within ten minutes after their vehicles had pulled out of the facility, the Seagull made his move. He tended towards the dramatic in his actions; a car exploded right in front of the series of dark sedans, sending traffic into a frenzy and distracting the guards enough for Red to easily slip away unnoticed from custody. He abandoned his hat and hung an abandoned jacket over his linked hands to hide the handcuffs, and slipped into the crowds of eager rubber-neckers that had formed once the seasoned DC residents realized that the explosion wasn't the result of a continuing terrorist act. Mack had also climbed out of his car in a daze to stand with the guards; he had been in the front vehicle of the convoy nearest the explosion.  Mack locked eyes with his fellow prisoner.  When he realized the lack of surprise in Reddington's blank expression he caught on quickly to his betrayal.  Within a minute the rest of Red's team had opened fire on the calvacade.  In the confusion of the attack, several of the Seagull's finest associates reached Mack and removed him quickly from the scene.  Red allowed himself to be swept up in the frantic movements of the crowds of bystanders away from the scene.  He would return later to the rallying point several blocks away to congratulate his people on a job well done.

But Red didn't make it.   Within the safe midsts of the crowds, he was suddenly flanked by two large armed men on either side, forcing him to return to the main street and a nearby parked SUV.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Liz have to work separately for the same goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting towards the end of this story! Which means... the bunnies are kicking out ideas for a sequel (after I get the fall planting done!)
> 
> Many thanks for all of the comments and kudos - they have meant so much to me! 
> 
> I'm including some notes at the end about topics raised in the chapter

 

Elizabeth Keen intended to follow through on her promise to Reddington and immediately leave the city. A call to Dembe confirmed that she was expected to arrive at the old Hempstead residence by early afternoon, and there was an interview scheduled for her shortly thereafter. She had briefly confirmed the arrangements with Cooper then stopped by her office to pack up all of her case notes and laptop. This took longer than she had intended; details in her notes kept catching her attention. Before she realized it, an hour had passed since her interlude with Raymond in Cooper's office. She resolved to stuff everything in her computer bag and haul it with her to Baltimore, since she had no intention of letting physical distance from the city stop her from staying involved in the situation. It took two leather satchels to carry her workload but she was now ready to abandon her office and start on her afternoon itinerary. Liz intended to stop by her apartment just long enough to shove a couple of outfits in her suitcase, tape a note on her neighbor's door to please check in on her fish periodically throughout the weekend, and dash out the door to join the unusually large flotilla of vehicles heading out of the city for an early start to the weekend.

A quiet exodus of high-level officials had begun late that morning as the Thursday deadline grew ominously close. The President's schedule had changed slightly with an earlier than planned departure to Camp David with a larger than normal retinue of press and other hangers-on. Congress wasn't in session but the Supreme Court was; the press was reporting that some virus had hit unexpectedly that morning, causing several of the justices to regretfully postpone their afternoon sessions until after the weekend and close down their offices.

Her concern grew when she entered the war room. It had erupted into a frantic level of chaos since she had last passed through, with familiar and unfamiliar suits racing around snapping at each other or jabbing on cell phones. She spotted Cooper in a far corner, angrily interviewing one of the guards that had been assigned to Red that morning. He spotted her, frowned, and broke off his tirade and motioned away the guard.

"What's going on?" Liz demanded. Cooper shook his head.

"Reddington is missing," Cooper answered slowly, as if he couldn't believe his own words. He held up his hands to fend off her coming barrage of questions. "During transport to another blacksite someone attacked the convoy and we lost track of him and Mack immediately afterwards." He realized quickly from her shocked reaction that Red had not briefed her on the details of his plan and she truly believed he had been abducted. Part of him wanted to comfort her; her dismay was evident as she nervously fidgeted with the scar on her hand. But apparently Red had kept the plan secret from her for some reasons of his own, and Cooper didn't intend to interfere with Red's machinations with his...Agent Keen. He was irritated with the escaped criminal for other reasons. Cooper had insisted at his final meeting with Reddington before the departure of the convoy that he would contact him directly when the extraction was complete. He reprimanded himself silently for ever allowing this scheme to take place; he had to assume that Reddington simply didn't follow through on his promise to communicate, and Cooper would be left to placate his bosses until they hopefully received good results for their efforts.

Liz nodded slowly. This must be the plan he had devised and refused to detail for her, probably because she would have refused to have any part in it. She turned again to her boss and realized he was waiting for her response. "I think we were supposed to be surprised," she said finally. 

"If he contacts you..." he started.

"I will call you immediately," she finished.

"You should leave now for your meeting, Agent Keen." She agreed reluctantly, wishing again that she had not made the promise, but she wouldn't renege on it now.

"Wait!" a familiar voice ordered as she reached the gaudy yellow elevator door. Agent Keen scanned the room for the source of the voice moving quickly through the throngs crowding the war room in her direction. Liz found herself bookended by Agents Ressler and Davidson, casually prevented from moving in any direction except on to the waiting elevator car.

"Hey!" Liz greeted them brightly as if it were any other day. They glanced at each other, then both leveled impassive stares in her direction. She shrank a little under their intense scrutiny. The elevator dinged and opened; both silently escorted her inside. Davidson reached immediately for the display of buttons, choosing a lower floor instead of the main parking level. "I'm heading out," Liz stated. "Cooper wants me to go.."

"We're going to have a little talk first," Davidson replied quietly.

"But my orders...' Ressler shook his head.

"We don't want to bring Cooper into this, Keen. Not until you had a chance to talk to us first." Liz took a deep steadying breath as it became obvious they were not going to let her walk away. She didn't resist as they walked her to the same interrogation room where she had talked with Red only the day before. She glanced involuntarily to the one-way glass as she took the seat Ressler motioned towards. He chose the same seat he had occupied the day before; she imagined Red had then seen an identical cold expression on her partner's face. Davidson remained on her feet, floating around the room to study her team mate from different angles.

"Just us," Ressler reiterated. "This is just a friendly conversation, Liz. We're all on the same side, am I right?"

"I thought so until you sat me in this seat," Liz countered. She leaned forward. "What is going on, Don?"

He leaned forward as well. "You're going to Baltimore, right? Who are you meeting there?"

"I don't know. Red set up the meeting for me. One of his mystery contacts. You know I never know these people ahead of time."

"I'm sure you know Reddington escaped custody half an hour ago," Davidson added. "Are you going to rendezvous with him in Baltimore, or did he bail out on you too?"

"He was taken during transport to a new site," Liz corrected her. "We don't know he did that voluntarily. And even if he did, he came here of his own free will; we didn't have legal custody of him."

Elenna ignored the second half of her statement. "This was a classic extraction. I'll bet the Seagull was involved," she stated with obvious frustration to the other long term member of the Reddington task force. Both of them at times had lost Red out of certain capture due to the talents of the Seagull. "I'm curious how Red arranged this since he's been out of contact with the outside world since his arrival. Except through you."

Liz rose to her feet. "This is ridiculous. We have much more important things to do right now that try to drum up some crazy conspiracy theories. If you're trying to insinuate that Reddington and I are in collusion and we're behind this plot, well, it's not worth my time to point out the vast number of holes in that theory. Am I under official detention, agents? Because if so this is where I start talking about my legal rights."

"You're sleeping with him, Keen. That alone would get you placed in detention for the duration of an internal investigation. Your legal rights are pretty minimal right now." Ressler flinched as horror flashed across her face at the thought of that potential future. He motioned for her to sit down again, as his expression softened slightly. "We're not here to hassle you, Liz. We want to help you."

"Tell us everything!" Davidson swooped to her side, leaning back against the table. "We can still help you if you work with us now. But once the big boys come down on you, we'll be useless."

"Every bit of intel he's passed to me I have freely shared with you," Liz countered. "I know he's shared everything he knows about the deliveries. Wherever he is right now, Red is doing what he can to stop the uranium from reaching the destinations. I wish the two of you could drop your animosity for just long enough to see what he's risking right now and work with him instead of against him."

The other agents turned to each other and sighed. "I can start listing multiple major terrorist events we know for which he was primarily responsible," Ressler lectured her. Why do you think this is any different, Liz? You told me two nights ago you know things about him I don't that makes you trust him. Tell me these things now."

"I can't," she insisted. She stared down at the table. She turned over her hand to examine her burn scar, running her fingers over its uneven surface, and loosing herself in the memory of the first time she had seen his scars from that night. "These are personal things that have nothing to do with this situation."

Elenna crouched down next to her friend, touching her hand lightly with her own. Her voice changed to a gentle tone Liz had never heard from her before. "Liz, I am your friend, I promise you that I'm doing all of this only because I want to help you."

"You threatened him," Liz replied harshly. "Using me."

"We just wanted to protect you, Keen," Ressler interrupted.

"You know, that's what he says, too," Liz laughed harshly. "Everyone wants to protect me. But you know what, I'm tired of being protected. I am fully capable of taking care of myself and deciding who and what I can trust." She rose to her feet, turning away from her fellow agents to study her reflection in the mirror. Then she turned around again. "Give me a good reason to trust you. Tell me the truth. Reddington wasn't going to be released again out of custody, was he?"

Elenna put a hand on Ressler's shoulder, silently urging him to remain quiet. But he shook his head. "Those were the orders that came from above. Someone wanted him contained."

"Me too?" Liz asked. "I'm compromised after all, right?"

Elenna responded sullenly. "We were asked to supervise your interactions with him. They knew your relationship had passed boundaries, and they were going to use that against both of you."

The trill of a cell phone interrupted Liz's angry reply. All three reached for their electronic devices as a matter of reflex.  The call was coming through Ressler's mobile. He answered with a brusque greeting. His eyebrows raised involuntarily as he listened, only speaking twice with a simple 'yes' in reply to the first question, and their current location to the second. When he jabbed the disconnect button it was with angry enthusiasm as if the phone itself was responsible for the bad news.

"That was Cooper. He's on his way down. He ordered me to keep you in custody until he arrives," he informed Liz.

 

Red wasn't surprised when he beheld the other occupant of the luxury automobile. He settled in and calmly adjusted his jacket and tie as one of the thugs slammed the car door shut against his elbow.  Fitch was reclined comfortably in his seat on the other side of the car, with his cell phone to his ear and his eyes closed peacefully. He waved his fingers at his guest as a gesture to remain quiet as he continued his previous conversation. Red complied, using the time to carefully study his surroundings. The vehicles windows were mirrored for privacy, and from the thickness bullet-proof as well. It wasn't the official car that came with Fitch's office; this one must be reserved for his extracurricular activities, Red assumed. He hadn't realized as he had been dragged towards the auto, but guessing from the lovingly restored interior it was a certifiable antique, probably an early 1970s vintage. Something that Fitch's equivalent would have ridden in during the Nixon administration that had been carefully maintained and treasured.

They were parked on the side of a busy street in one of the new urban pioneer historic neighborhoods; the goons who had grabbed him were seated a few feet away at a outdoor cafe table, sipping coffees and watching his door closely. He had to assume several other goons were set up nearby as well and well blended with the lunchtime crowds.

Fitch hung up and heaved a theatrical sigh. "I hate fundraising calls," he announced with disdain. "They're taking over my life as the election draws closer. How are you, Ray?"

"I'm sitting at the center of a large bulls-eye," Red replied calmly. "As are you, Alan. I thought you would have slithered out of town by now with the rest of the elected officials."

Fitch's relief was evident in the exuberance of his reply. "No, it's all good, Ray. We have that situation completely under control now. I will admit it was touch and go there for a bit, but we're fine."

"I'm so glad to hear the apocalypse has been cancelled," Red answered levelly. "Why am I here?"

Fitch shrugged. "Its been a while since we had a chance to chat. I hear you've been quite busy."

"Same old, same old, Alan." Red bit his lip briefly as Fitch tapped on the back of the driver's seat. He complied quickly with his unspoken command, pulling the car from its parking spot and smoothly merging into traffic. "Are we going somewhere?" 

"That depends on you, Ray. I have some information I'm sure you would find interesting. In return, I get answers to a few questions." Fitch's expression was so open and honest, only his oldest and worst enemy could suspect him of any malicious intentions.

Red covered his growing apprehension under a brilliant smile. He curled around in his seat, using his body mass to hide his fingers exploring the door lock mechanism. The handle was for show only; the door could only open from the outside. "I think I like this method better than the last time you asked me a few questions, Alan. Though you do realize some of my best extraction people were waiting for me only two blocks away? They will move rather quickly and with great enthusiasm. Why didn't you just call me and set up a meeting?"

"I didn't think you would take my call. Your people are good, Ray, I admit. But my people are better. Your tracking device went off-line as soon as I hung up my phone and activated the electromagnetic field damper." He motioned to the front of the car and its dashboard full of ancient analog displays. "Did you know that the government maintains classic old cars like this in case of a electromagnetic pulse attack? They don't have any electrical parts and are thus immune to the effects. Its funny what you learn when you take office. Though of course I knew about EMP attacks before. What do you know about EMPs, Ray?"

"That's what you were planning? EMPs over five cities?" Red was furiously trying to recall a long ago briefing on EMP attacks. They were a concern back in the early 1980s when he was still a loyal Navy officer. The military had learned about them accidentally in the early atomic age, when test explosions in the Pacific resulted in the destruction of nearby electrical equipment. This was a problem that growing reliance on technology had made much worse. In the pulse emitted after a nuclear explosion all non-shielded electronics would be destroyed, including the computer equipment that hosted the networks that ran all of the important functions of any city. Power plants, the energy grid, financial institutions, even food distribution would all be disrupted for long periods of time, sending a city into chaos without any need for a ground level mushroom cloud. A simple missile or airplane could deliver the bomb high enough in the air to include a major city in its effective zone.

"You assume that it was my people, Ray? I'll admit that it is a page out of our playbook, but I assure you this was not our move. But you know the players involved."

"Who did this?" Red demanded.

Fitch shook his head, smiling. "My turn to hear you talk. Tell me about Elizabeth Keen."

"She's my contact at the Post Office. Why would you want to discuss her now?" Red shrugged. "You understand she has nothing to do with my dealings with you."

"Come now, Ray, don't be coy! She's recently become your lover. I'm happy for you, really, you've been alone far too long I think." Fitch's expression was honestly pleased for a minute before he continued. "But she is something else as well. She's dangerous, especially for you. You shouldn't have exposed such an easy weakness, Ray, especially one sitting defenseless in the middle of my playground. My people have her in custody, and she will remain there until I am satisfied with the results of our conversation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMPs are a top concern for security experts across the globe. I wouldn't recommend looking up the topic unless you like to be scared witless.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz learns who she can trust at the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I really intended to keep this down to twelve chapters....
> 
> This chapter was going to be huge and late, so I decided to chop it into two parts and get the first part out when promised. The next chapter will be Red's turn!
> 
> I went back and fixed some typos and other mistakes in the last chapter that snuck past me in editing. I will also be editing old chapters slightly as a favor to my daughter and others who requested. Agent Davidson is now a single lady and available for shipping!
> 
> Legal department: Agent Elenna Davidson is mine, the other characters are not. If you sue me, you'll get peanuts. (Literally - I had a real bumper crop this summer.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

Within five minutes after the end of the call, Agent Cooper himself burst into the room. He had been hustling down the hall the entire time he was on the phone with Agent Ressler, desperately hoping to manage a few minutes of conversation with Keen before the imminent arrival of the teams of agents who had been ordered to arrest her on sight.

"What is going on?" he demanded. No one answered him. All three of his agents remained in uncomfortable silence, keeping their distance from each other the best they could in the tiny room and refusing to meet his eyes. "Agent Keen, I've been ordered by my superiors to place you in detention immediately on conspiracy charges. Agents will be here shortly to take you into custody. They claim you switched allegiance to Reddington and aided in his escape." He made subtle motions with his hand in the general direction of the observation room. Ressler caught his meaning and shook his head to signify all of the equipment was now inactive.

"Shit," Elenna's murmur was like a shotgun blast in contrast to the sullen muteness of the other agents.

"Red wasn't being held in official custody," Liz argued in anger and confusion, and received several nods of acknowledgement in return. "This fake escape was just part of his plan to gain intel on the uranium. But you knew about the real plan," she declared to Cooper with rising suspicion.

"What plan?" Ressler demanded incredulously.

Cooper's shoulders drooped. "The transfer was a ruse. He had set up an extraction for both himself and Mack so that his people could take over the interrogation efforts."

"You let both Mack and Reddington go?" Davidson reiterated for her own benefit, hoping that she had badly misunderstood and her boss had not just let two known terrorists walk free.

"Reddington was here voluntarily. I couldn't have force him to remain in our custody even if I wanted to. Which I explained to our leadership with no success." He sighed, then decided to lay all of his cards on the table. "My superiors apparently intended all along to keep him imprisoned for the foreseeable future."

"So he ran," Agent Davidson snapped. "Got out of town to save his own ass and left you here to take the fall, Liz."

Liz turned on her, her frown nearing a snarl. "Red wouldn't do that. Someone interrupted the extraction to take him to a different holding facility." Liz swallowed deeply. "Someone who knew about the transfer and took advantage of the situation."

"So we have a mole," Ressler's expression darkened at his realization. "Someone high up in the hierarchy."

"It would seem so," Cooper agreed. He leaned back against the table with his arms crossed, though his mental clock was anxiously counting down until the arrival of the teams. He had delayed deploying them as long as he could without drawing suspicion. "I had informed Agent Martin about the transfer but not the plans for extraction." He didn't miss the way both Davidson and Ressler flinched at the name, and filed that away for further questioning later.

Liz had her own concerns. "I have to contact Red's people and brief them on the situation. If both Red and I go out of contact, multiple safety protocols are activated and this situation could get a whole lot worse," Agent Keen declared. She picked up her computer bags and the suit jacket she had shrugged off in the overheated room, and locked her gaze on each of her coworkers in turn. "Are you going to allow me to leave this facility?"

Ressler and Davidson both froze with uncertainty at the prospect of flaunting their direct orders. Cooper remained calm and sure, replying immediately in the affirmative. "No one saw me arrive here. I can claim that I didn't find you," he told Agent Keen. "But you only have minutes and I don't know how to get you out of here without being spotted by the teams."

"When you got here it was just Agent Ressler, waiting for me and Liz to come back," Elenna was rapidly envisioning the plan as she spoke, keeping just a couple of words ahead in her mind. "I escorted her to the bathroom and we didn't return. You were just starting to get concerned."

"Where will you be?" Ressler allowed himself to be persuaded when he saw Cooper nodding along with her words.

"I can easily get Liz to one of the exits without anyone seeing us," Agent Davidson affirmed. "I know the schematics of this place cold. No one will find us. But we have to go soon." Her brows furled as she mentally previewed their journey, then she unexpectedly motioned for them to wait for her as she slipped from the room.

Liz used the opportunity to turn on Ressler. "Who told you to keep us under observation?"

Cooper blinked rapidly at this tidbit of information. "I was not aware that you had been given the directive to monitor another agent." he declared.

"Agent Martin approached us several weeks ago with suspicions about her relationship with Reddington." Ressler explained with distaste. "He wanted evidence so he could terminate Agent Keen's employment with the FBI. Of course we refused to participate despite his threats. That's why we both warned you repeatedly to be careful, Liz. "

"How much do you know about this Agent Martin?" Liz asked Agent Cooper.

His frown had tighten deeply. "Not enough, I see. Agent Keen, you'll continue on to Baltimore. We need to quietly re-establish communications with Red's organization."

Davidson had returned from the attached observation room, brandishing a set of handcuffs like a trophy. "Don't get bawdy thoughts now, Don," she smiled brightly before turning back to her boss. "Agent Keen is going to overpower me and lock me up before escaping the building. Give us twenty minutes and then send someone to find me before I really have to pee. Come on Liz." Keen sent one last grateful expression to the other agents before following Davidson down the corridor.

"You do know the place," Liz commented after they climbed up several flights of stairs to a hallway Liz didn't know existed. She had to hustle to keep up with the energized redhead. They passed a pair of familiar guards coming the other way down the otherwise deserted corridor. Both women smiled brightly as the men stopped to greet them warmly. Liz inquired politely after one of their daughter's music recital; he had talked her ear off about the girl's talents recently while riding the elevator together. Elenna tugged gently on her arm, urging her forward as she kept one hand discreetly at the ready for the knife that was always sheathed in the lining of her jacket. Both heaved sighs of relief when the men had disappeared around a corner and they were safely alone again.

Elenna responded to Liz's earlier question. "After I started here and read the Garrick file, I figured it would be a wise idea to know all the escape routes." She motioned for Liz to wait for her as she quietly cracked open a door to check that the next part of their journey was clear. She relaxed as they cleared the next corridor, a main route that was their most likely place for discovery. By now the agents must have arrived at the detention room. Their first clue to imminent danger would likely be sirens; Cooper would have to implement the protocol for an escaping detainee even if it was a fellow agent.

Liz followed gamely, regretting sincerely that she had not left the facility at the time she had promised. She wished she had time to grab more of her belongings from her office, since she doubted she would ever return to her desk again. She had to hope they weren't caught just so that her companions wouldn't suffer the same punishment to their reputations as she had already done to hers. "Davidson?"

"What, Keen?"

"Why are you helping me escape?" Liz inquired. "Or is this part of the trap, too?"

Elenna didn't slow down. "Someone in this organization is cheating at the game, and you're one of their favorite pieces to play. I don't like playing for cheaters so I'm looking to mess up his game. We're going to find this mole, and he better pray I'm not the one to find him. Agent Martin is a slimy bastard, but I'm thinking the rat resides at a higher pay grade."

"Red never believed the office had been completely cleaned," Liz admitted. "It's one reason he never liked to visit in person."

"I'm sure Don and I were his other reasons," Elenna had relaxed enough to laugh with some pride at the thought before growing thoughtful again. "Apparently Cooper trusts your criminal enough to send you back to his people. I would suggest other options but the decision where you go is up to you. I will warn you that if you leave here and go to Baltimore, no matter what moves Cooper makes your career with the FBI is essentially over."

"It's been over since I fell in love with Red," Liz replied calmly. "You warned both of us about that already."

"I did." Davidson stopped abruptly as they entered yet another dark dark deserted chamber. "You have to wonder what all of these rooms were used for back when this was a real post office facility. But this is where you overpower me, lock me on to one of these radiator pipes and make your escape. Keep going about thirty feet down that corridor and there's a hatch that leads to an old coal shaft from way back when. Tight fit, especially with the bags, but it will get you to the surface."

Liz lifted up the bags for emphasis. "These hold all of my personal files on Red and my contacts with his people. I will not leave these behind for the mole's people to discover." Elenna allowed Liz to maneuver her into an uncomfortable position sprawled against the wall, with her wrist fastened to a firmly attached section of the ancient radiator. She experimented with the pipe until she was satisfied it would hold, and wiggled against the wall and ground, until the damage to her work suit provided sufficient evidence of a struggle.

"Poor Don, I'm sure we're living out one of his favorite fantasies and he's not here to see it," Elenna exclaimed with good humor as she used her free hand to loosely pull her hair from its bun.

"Let's make this look good," Liz agreed. "I'd hate for you to have to spend your afternoon in interrogation with Scary Gary."

"Ugh," Elenna agreed. "I thought he was creepy before I knew he was dirty. Yeah, give me a good smack across the face before you go." Liz complied with reluctance but with convincing results. Elenna's expression vacillated between annoyed and proud of her protege as she gingerly fingered her raw, tingling cheek.

She shrugged with resignation as her nose began to bleed. "Sometimes this job just sucks. If I have any free time today I'll go find that uranium and keep the city from going boom."

"I'll keep that in mind as well," Liz promised. She crossed the bag straps over her shoulders and back to keep her hands free and ready to aid in climbing out through the shaft.

Elenna had to smile at the sight. "I'll give you two minutes before I start cussing you out loudly. Take care, Agent Keen."

"Thanks for everything, Agent Davidson," Liz tapped her gently on her arm before rushing away to the promised exit and safety.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's encounter with Fitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else binged all 22 episodes in a row on Netflix? I think my eyeballs are going to fall out of my head...but so worth it!
> 
> Two more chapters after this - I'm planning on releasing a chapter each Wednesday for the next couple of weeks. 
> 
> Thanks again for all of the comments/kudos! I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

 

 

Red's response to Fitch's threat was a set of rapid blinks then a quickly assumed mask of detachment. "Why is Agent Keen a concern for you? She has nothing to do with you or our dealings." Red stretched back in the car seat, wishing he had a drink or something else to keep his hands occupied. He settled for languidly brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve.

"I believed that for a long time, Ray." Fitch suddenly leaned forward to confer with the driver. "Back to the office, John." he ordered in a voice just loud enough for his captive to overhear.

A glint of amusement slipped into Red's resulting grimace. "Your office? You may have some difficulty pirating me past the security details, though it would be fascinating to explore one of those legendary secret tunnels."

Vice President Alan Fitch smirked in return. "Ray, as intriguing an idea as that is, I was planning to take you to a more private location today to continue our discussion. I still keep a small suite of rooms offsite to conduct my private business." He said nothing else, instead pulling out a thick leather portfolio from his leather case and a pair of thick framed reading glasses. Red used the quiet interlude to study the sedate older neighborhood they were traversing in a seemingly random pattern. He knew it was worthless to identify the location of Fitch's office; it would be abandoned within minutes of their eventual departure, similar to his own use of a circuit of safe houses.

His fears had been assuaged by the end of the potential bomb threat, but his heart still beat faster than normal after Fitch's words. His watch had stopped along with the other electronics in the vehicle, but he guessed he had been pushed in to the car roughly fifteen minutes ago. The first of his elaborate system of safety protocols would switch on within the next fifteen minutes if he didn't contact Kaplan or Dembe and stop the onslaught. As he was currently untraceable, they would first act to locate Lizzie, retrieve her through whatever means necessary and remove her to one of the special emergency shelters he maintained outside of the city for extraordinary situations. If he was out of contact for another seventy-five minutes, other protocols would kick in to gear, including the ones that would reveal Fitch's secrets to the world and make Red immediately and permanently expendable.

Red sighed lightly, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward against the bullet-proof window. He didn't want to be angry with Lizzie, but from Fitch's description of her predicament she had not followed his directions and left the office when expected. Even when their relationship had been at its frostiest she had always kept her word in difficult situations, so he had to assume something else had kept her at the office past her promised departure time. Whatever that reason was, it was probably not good news, either. He wished heartily that he had just flown her out of town with him when he had the chance days ago instead of giving in to his newfound altruistic urges.

After a few more minutes of aimless wandering, the driver pulled over to the side of the street in front of a decrepit brick building. It rose several stories high, both visible sides covered with faded old advertisements from the ancient days when the building had housed a popular department store. Now from the looks of it, the facility was empty of paying tenants, except for one discreet wooden sign posted next to a forbidding-looking heavy door. The driver jumped out to open Red's door. He pretended not to notice the way the driver hovered over him with his intimidating bulk, dogging his footsteps as Red stepped away from the car to study his new location. Fitch exited from the other side of the car and motioned for Red to follow him into the doorway.

Inside was a nearly empty closet of a bar. Only eight or nine round bar tables fit in its tiny available space. The bar itself was only a few feet long and offered a total of two stools for visitors. The bartender was ancient and unflustered by the arrival of his famous customer. He merely nodded in greeting and immediately started pouring a drink. The driver took what appeared to be his usual seat at the bar, then grabbed a nearby copy of the day's Washington Post and began to peruse the sports pages. Within a minute a soda was placed in front of him as the bartender crossed by on the way to the newcomers.

"What would you like to drink, Ray? Still scotch?" Fitch asked as they chose one of the tables.

Red nodded politely in reply. "This is your office, Alan?" he inquired with some curiosity.

Fitch motioned to the ceiling. "I keep a desk upstairs, but I find I do some of my best work in here. Speak as freely as you like, Ray, Marcus over there has been part of our movement since the very beginning, or so I've been told. I came in later, you understand."

"Movement," Red couldn't resist shaking his head. "That's a lovely euphemism for your doomsday cult, Alan."

"Oh, Ray, let's not start the old argument again. We have much more pressing business to discuss. I'll return to our discussion about your lovely young partner again. When you turned yourself in to the FBI, you were insistent that you would only speak with Elizabeth Keen. Why her?"

Red sipped his drink slowly, studying his nemesis in the dim light of the bar. "Personal reasons that have nothing to do with you."

"I find that your reasons are now of the greatest concern to me and to her. She'll remain in the custody of my people until I am satisfied with your answers."

"I don't like threats, Alan," Red finished his drink with a final gulp and stood up next to his chair, replacing his hat back on his head as if ready to depart.

Fitch remained where he was, nodding his head as instruction towards the bodyguard who had risen as well. "I won't threaten her career, Ray. You and I both know that's over and done. But consider the federal charges that can be brought because of her relationship with you. Conspiracy, aiding and abetting a known fugitive... I can keep going, Ray."

"Bastard. You've got me right here front and center, Alan. Leave her out of this."

"How noble of you, Raymond," Fitch smiled as the bodyguard pressed heavily down on Red's shoulders, forcing him back into his seat. "She is a part of all of these events in a way you do not yet understand. I've had my people put her entire life under the microscope looking for you and we've come up with nothing. I don't think you picked her name out of a hat, though, so you must have some long-standing ties with her we just haven't found yet."

"And you won't find anything. Let her go and talk to me. What do you know about these events, Fitch? You said you stopped the attacks, and that I would know the perpetrators. Who are they?"

Fitch leaned forward, finally showing full interest in the conversation as they exited the preliminaries into the main topic. "The attacks were organized by a splinter group of our movement that had separated from us in the early nineties. We know nothing about its current leader except a codename, which by an unlikely coincidence you brought to my attention back in May. Berlin."

"Do you have Berlin in custody?" Red demanded with some optimism.

Alan waved the bartender back to their table, then shook his head with regret after the next round of drinks had been delivered. "No. I suppose you understand how incredibly difficult he has been to track down after your own challenges this summer. I have had some people embedded in his organization for years and they've never been able to get even a glimpse of the man. Luckily, we were able to meet with his co-conspirator in these latest plots we just discovered. She's not a member of his group per se; she was one of ours but left the movement several years ago. She was able to provide us with DNA samples of the mysterious Berlin."

Red took another sip, gratified his time wasn't being completely wasted. "So you could run him through all of the databases. What did you find?"

Fitch paused, and focused intently on Red's reaction as he spoke. "No exact matches, but I found a close genetic match in the FBI database. Special Agent Elizabeth Keen is a blood relative of Berlin, most likely his daughter."

Alan Fitch didn't know that the private little mental game he played when conversing with Red was a popular game with everyone who had regular dealings with the criminal. At some point, everyone felt a tiny glint of triumph if they ever managed to throw him off-kilter by their words. Red had involuntarily dropped his glass to the table with a thud and splash of amber liquid. His mouth had dropped open slightly in shock. Disbelief, then anger, and finally fury had all had their turns to cross his features before he regained his customary control. "He is not her father. Her biological father has been dead for twenty years."

"I must disagree with that statement, Ray. I am curious what made you so sure he was dead if you know nothing about him."

"That would be none of your goddamned business," Red snapped back. He bit his lip hard as he tried to regain his composure. Loose puzzle pieces that were always piled up in the back of his mind were now active, fitting themselves together and distracting him away from his current predicament. He forced his concentration back on the enemy across from him, who was waiting patiently with a pleased expression.

"I thought you would be able to provide me a name, Red. In exchange for the immediate release of Agent Keen."

"No," Red's answer was definitive. "That son of a bitch is dead and gone and I will not ever bring that name into any conversation ever again."

Fitch shook his head. "Federal prison is an unpleasant place, Ray, especially for ex-FBI agents. I'm sure if I look into her records I would find someone she was responsible for putting away that would surely enjoy meeting up with her again."

"You can make all of the empty threats you like, Alan. You can't put her anywhere I won't find her and break her out again." He made a big show of checking his now functional watch. "And you now have twenty eight minutes before your movement becomes breaking news on all of the major news outlets."

"You'll be dead in thirty minutes, Ray," Fitch advised in return. "You won't live to see my life's work go down in flames. But I thought you would be happy to work with us on preventing this Berlin from achieving his goals. Would have rather we let him carry on with his plans for tomorrow?"

"Of course not," Red shook his head angrily. Second drink done, he asked the bartender to switch him to a famed local microbrew. The bartender complied, bringing the bottle with him as well as a frosted glass. Red glanced at the label and nodded absently as Fitch continued the conversation.

"I understand you don't agree with our agenda, but you certainly don't want to support Berlin's group instead."

"I prefer you both go down in flames," Red told him. "But as long as you've respected the boundaries we've set so have I, and I still don't understand why you've violated those boundaries by threatening Agent Keen and myself today. If you are correct in Berlin's identity, he has lived so long without his previous name that it would be next to useless in tracking him down today."

"Not if we can use his daughter to draw him in," Fitch answered simply. "Does he know with whom she is now so deeply emotionally involved?"

Red took a series of deep breaths, readying himself for his reply. He glanced to his opponent, waiting with a faint anticipatory smile for his answer. Then Red moved without hesitation. He flew up from his seat, the chair flying backwards from his unexpected velocity. Within a minute he had shattered the empty beer bottle against the table and shoved the largest shard into the neck of the bodyguard. He kept the bulk of the body in front of him, straining to hold the extra weight as protection against the resulting gunshots by the bartender. When the bartender stopped to reload, Red had the bodyguard's own weapon out and fired at the bartender, taking the elderly man in the shoulder and dropping him crying to the ground. Then he turned to Fitch, who had bolted from his seat and was yelling for the other guards posted outside.

Red took both of them out with clean head shots as they burst through the narrow doorway. "You should have kept your Secret Service detail with you, Alan." he advised mildly. "This second life of yours is going to get you in trouble some day." He kept the weapon centered on the middle of Fitch's forehead as he circled closer, forcing him backwards in the direction of the bar's other exit. His finger itched on the trigger but he remained stoic against the temptation.

"Before you kill me there is other news I brought you here to discuss," Fitch offered. "The co-conspirator."

"What about him?" Red demanded. He assumed that Fitch wouldn't be carrying a mobile phone, but surely the bodyguard had one stashed somewhere in his pockets. He kept the weapon locked on Alan as he patted one-handed down the mass of the fallen body.

"She's someone I'm sure you'll find interesting" Fitch was desperate, confident that Red was willing to add a vice-president to the growing body count of this sideways operation. He had grown too cocky in his interactions with the fugitive, he realized too late; too sure of his position in power to remember that Reddington had no respect for positions of power when they were obstacles to his own needs. "You've asked repeated over the years for information about her."

He had Red's full attention. He remained crouched down by the body, but his focus was again on Fitch. "What carrot are you dangling in front of me now, Alan?" he inquired with some trepidation.

"The co-conspirator in this scheme was Tory. Victoria Reddington, though since you disappeared she's gone by another name."

Red clutched the cell phone he had discovered a minute previous to the stunning announcement. "Tory is alive," he tasted the words in his mouth. They were much more bitter than he had ever imagined they would taste during those first years he had ached for the loss of her. "How? I searched for her..." he trailed off when he caught the well-pleased grin that was his real answer.

"She had already joined our movement, Ray. You were so indignant, even self-righteous in your refusal and yet your own wife was secretly a member of our community. After that night she came to us for shelter and protection from the enemies you had brought into her life."

"What about my daughter?" Red couldn't resist asking the question though his knees ached from his position on the hardwood floor, his arm was growing weary from holding the pistol aimed and ready, and Lizzie was locked in a small room somewhere with angry vindictive men. "Why did you murder her?"

"I know you don't want to believe me," Fitch answered as Red rose again to his feet, with the gun now in his left hand and a bottle shard in his right. He approached the taller man slowly, almost regretfully as he displayed both weapons in his hands. "We weren't responsible for the invasion of your home that night nor the death of your daughter. That wasn't our work, Ray, I promise you. Tory would tell you that as well."

"I want to see her," Red demanded. He stopped several inches away from the older man. The sharp glass in his hand had cut his own fingers. He didn't seem to notice the blood drops streaming down his wrist and the sleeves of his expensive shirt.

"She's gone, Ray. That was one of the conditions of our agreement to stop the attacks. I don't have the means to contact her." He took an involuntary step backwards as Red approached closer, still brandishing his weapons. "What do we have, Ray, fifteen minutes? Let's call this a draw and both of us go on about our business. I'm expected at the Capital shortly; there will be quite a public uproar if I come up missing."

Red stopped his approach, finally recognizing that blood was dripping down his arm from the wounds in his hand. He dropped the glass shard with disdain on the floor in front of Finch. "Call your thugs off Agent Keen. Then I will make my call to my people," he ordered. The Vice-President's shoulders sagged slightly in relief. "But understand," Red continued, waving the pistol for emphasis, "that if anything unpleasant would happen to Elizabeth Keen I will hold you personally responsible, Alan. Inform your people that she is under my protection, and I intend to inform Berlin and his people that as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a little bad making such a nasty guy the Vice President. I apologize to all of the men who have held that office, who I am sure served their country with loyalty and to the best of their ability.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at the Hempstead house in Baltimore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, almost done! I knew I've spent too much time in this story when halfway through Monday's episode I turned to my daughter and asked her, "Where's Agent Davidson?"
> 
> Speaking of Elenna... if you like Agent Elenna, you will soon be able to meet her parallel universe version Lady Elenna. The Story of The Lord Son's Travels, authored by Emma Mickley. is the book describing her adventures in a very different reality. It will be going up on Amazon in the beginning of November. 
> 
> Blame yourselves, people! It was all of your kudos and comments that gives me the courage to keep sending my writing out into the world! :)

Raymond Reddington had contingency plans for every conceivable situation and many of the most plausible black swan events as well. Liz was very appreciative of this paranoid tic of his as she slipped past the heavily guarded parking lot to the abandoned side alley. Three blocks away an older model Mercedes waited patiently in a long-term parking garage for days like today. The key was stashed with a well-paid homeless man flying a cardboard sign nearby. She popped the trunk of the Mercedes, and pulled back the plush carpet that lined the empty storage space. Hidden underneath the tire jack was an emergency burner cell. One number was already programmed in; she pressed the call button in relief. This time she didn't have to go through the message system to reach Mr. Kaplan; this phone number was one of the few that Red's confidante would answer immediately.

"Agent Keen?" Liz sighed audibly at the easy competence contained in those few syllables.

"Have you tracked him down?" Liz asked quickly.

"No. He's under an EMF shield, I imagine since the chip isn't emitting a signal. Come directly to Baltimore, Agent Keen. I will meet you here as originally planned." Click. Liz chucked the now useless phone in a convenient garbage can and climbed back into the driver's seat.

Usually Liz preferred to drive with the radio off, but now she needed the distraction of music to help her maintain any sense of calmness.  She switched between stations avoiding the news and instead seeking out light, poppy distracting tunes.   Interstate 95 was as it always was; a sign of Satan's influence on her beloved nation's public transportation policies. Due to the attack warnings, some wise and thus rare bureaucrat had cancelled construction work for the afternoon, so it moved better than it could have, but she still took more than two hours for what Mapquest had cheerfully estimated was a one-hour drive. Luckily there were far more cars heading out of Baltimore than heading in, so the second half of her journey was much easier than the first. She was able to pull in to the driveway of the Hempstead house while the sun was still high in the sunny September sky. Another Mercedes was already parked there; not Red's usual ride but a white SUV.

Before she had even reached the front door it was opened by Mr. Kaplan. She held a steaming cup in one hand and the door knob in the other. "Come in, Agent Keen," she greeted in her usual emotionless tone. "Did you stop for lunch on the way?"

"No, " Liz replied.

"I thought so. I have pasta and sauce ready on the stove." Liz followed her into the home, breathing in the welcoming scent of garlic and oregano with some amazement. She hadn't even thought about food all day. Now her stomach reminded her that she only had munched dry toast for breakfast on her way out the door.

She had never seen the kitchen before on her few short visits to the house. It was charming for what had once been a bachelor's pad. A small, well-used formica table filled the tiny eating nook with its built-in cushioned seats. It was already set for two. Liz turned around to the bewildering sight of Mr. Kaplan wearing an apron over her prim business suit, brushing olive oil on slices of french bread with her usual efficiency.

Liz offered her help and was refused. "Pour yourself a drink. I know that Dembe keeps several diet sodas hidden in the back. Raymond has a phobia about artificial sweeteners, so we have to keep those drinks a secret from him." Liz found a lonely Diet Coke in back and promised herself she would replace Dembe's stash as soon as possible. She popped the tab and took a gulp directly from the can before searching for a glass in the cabinets.

Mr. Kaplan set the serving dishes on the table and took a seat. "I will set your mind at ease on one concern. We've just received word from several dealers that all of the uranium deliveries had been canceled. They were offered double their price if they would arrange for immediate rerouting of the material to an undisclosed location somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. My bigger concern right now involves your employer. Was your government responsible for Raymond's abduction?" she asked.

Liz needed a few minutes to savor the first bit of her communication before tackling the second. She took a moment to serve herself some of the steaming noodles and sauce before answering. "I believe someone higher in the organization was responsible. I'm sure the members of my task force were not involved."

"We agree," the older lady answered. "But I suggest that you not return to your facility until we can be sure of your safety there."

"I already came to that conclusion," Liz sighed as she admitted her concerns and described her escape earlier that day.

Mr. Kaplan touched her hand gently to draw her attention. "Your change in relationship with Raymond will necessitate changes in all of your relationships," she admonished lightly. Her smile was motherly and protective of her figurative child. "You must have understood that and accepted this when you accepted him."

"I did," Liz answered honestly. "I've decided I'm going to resign from the FBI.  Though I guess my employment has probably already been terminated."

"Yes, dearie," They fell silent for the rest of the meal. When they both had finished, Liz rose to her feet, insisting on taking care of the cleanup. Mr. Kaplan lit a cigarette and watched her as the former agent took over the domestic duties. When the dishtowel was hung carefully back on its hook and duties were done, Mr. Kaplan rose and motioned for the younger woman to follow.

They entered the library that Lizzie remembered with fondness. Not much had changed since her last visit; books and folders of loose typewritten sheets were still scattered around on table tops and shelves. Liz slid into Red's corner of the sofa, studying the view outside of the window that had always fascinated him. "I've learned over the years to never worry about Raymond," Mr. Kaplan confided as she placed herself at the other end of the sofa. "He's a master of self-preservation. You'll see him soon, I think. Before you do, I have one other item that he has asked me to discuss with you. Please open that folder on the table in front of you. I will give you a few minutes to examine it before I share other details."

Liz hadn't noticed the plain manilla envelope in the midst of the other files of the late unpublished author. But upon examination, she noted her name was printed in center of the front of the envelope in neat red ink. She undid the clasp and pulled out a sheet of printed paper. It was a list of sixteen digit numbers coupled with bank names and foreign cities, and large numbers that stunned her by being amounts.

"These accounts were held in trust for you by your father Sam since your childhood until recently," Mr. Kaplan explained when Liz turned to her, bewildered. "They of course were not listed among his assets in his estate. Sam had intended to share this information with you years ago, but Raymond insisted that we wait until your husband," she couldn't resist a sudden shudder of distaste at his mention, "was no longer a concern. You are an independently wealthy woman, Agent Keen."

"When were these accounts opened?" Liz asked with concern.

Mr. Kaplan shook her head. "The first was started when you were six years old, and he had acquired enough funds to be comfortable himself. All of the accounts have always been held in a trust with only your father Sam having access to the funds. Even if you had never met Raymond, the money would have come to you in time."

Liz didn't know what to say. Mr. Kaplan sensed her mood and rose from her seat. "I have several tasks to accomplish this evening. Please make yourself comfortable. The guest room upstairs has been prepared for you." She disappeared as Liz stared down at the folder and bewildering lists of numbers.

Liz didn't stay in the guest room. After some time reflecting on the contents of the folder, she abruptly dropped the papers back on the table and went upstairs to shower and change. Some time ago, Dembe had asked her to provide items for an emergency travel bag that he always shipped along with the rest of the traveling household. She was pleased to find the bag waiting for her on the bed; she was suddenly anxious to rid herself of the damaged work suit she had worn throughout her adventures earlier today. After a shower and change, she stood at the side of the bed for awhile, lost in her thoughts,but then followed her impulse and returned downstairs to the library.

After the anxieties of the last few days and several sleepless nights, the library was soothing and welcoming, both for its own ambience and the memories it contained. She wiggled out of her shoes and pulled her bare feet up on the couch, snuggling into the cushions, sniffing deeply to catch a faded hint of his cologne in the fabric. She didn't fall asleep but instead drowsed lightly, allowing her body to continue to relax in the stillness. Her thoughts faded away to calm peacefulness, savoring the warmth of the fading afternoon light and the comforting scent of Hempstead's aging books and documents. Once in a while she heard movement in the house; Mr. Kaplan's voice on the telephone, then Dembe as he arrived at the house. She expected him to come into the room but he didn't; she kept her eyes closed as he merely cracked open to door to check on her then retreated silently.

Even as the rays of light through the window grew fainter, and the shadows stretch farther across the scuffed wooden floor, Liz didn't worry for Raymond. She shifted around on the couch, laying her cheek against the worn fabric of the sofa arm as a makeshift pillow as she smiled to herself.  She hadn't needed Mr. Kaplan's advice.  At some point since their discussion early that day a realization had blossomed in her mind. For any relationship to work there needs to be levels of trust; she now understood that in their unique situation they would also have to trust each other's abilities to keep themselves alive and well when away from the other's protection. He was going to come find her as soon as he could, she knew with certainty. Their future wasn't going to be easy, but they were going to have one together. That was when she realized with some surprise that what she was feeling was extraordinary happiness. She had chosen him over her career and friends, and if she was going to be completely honest with herself she had also just cheerfully given up any opportunity to live as a normal person ever again. But he was worth the sacrifice; she had no doubt that she would never regret her choice.

 

 

Five blocks away from Fitch's private bar, Red committed two random crimes. First, he noted a young girl bouncing along with a bunch of other young girls, with a neglected cell phone poking out of her back pocket as all of the girls giggled at the group selfie that had been just taken on a different phone. He bumped into her and apologized profusely as the gaggle of tweens reacted with indignant expressions and then inexplicably more laughter. Now he had a phone with which to call Dembe and stop all of the oncoming protocols.

This completed, he refused Dembe's offer to pick him up, preferring to continue on to crime number two. An old Chevy Impala had caught his attention by being badly parked outside of a large, rather seedy bar. It was easy enough to hotwire and drive off without catching the attention of the probably drunk owner or any fellow drunken customers inside the establishment. He allowed himself a small grin of accomplishment. He would drive himself to Baltimore; a small reward for the indignities he had undergone over the last few days. Red loved to drive, but his bodyguard had won that argument many years ago. Red had an unrepentant lead foot and callow disrespect for yellow lights, and neither wanted the shame of the FBI's fourth most wanted being captured due to an observant cop and a moving violation.

The traffic was difficult enough to keep him within shouting range of the speed limit, to his great disappointment. He had hoped to outrun his thoughts but his conversation with Fitch still haunted him. He had allocated so much time and energy to learn about Berlin, only to wish that he could revert back to happy ignorance again. The monster of his present was also one of the great monsters of his past. He shuddered, swearing again that he would never allow Lizzie to know the truth about her father. But now he could put a real name on Berlin; that would help in his efforts to eliminate that threat, so some small good had come of that anyway.

Victoria was alive. He had never been able to repress the memories of his daughter but Red had eventually been able to go weeks without reflecting on the loss of his wife. Fitch had evidently believed Red still thought she was innocent. But in reality, Red had mistrusted his wife's motivations for a long time before the events that December had painfully confirmed his instincts. He could find her again; his people would certainly be able to bring her to him for a conversation. The knowledge he could gain was worth the anguish that would return at the sight of his betrayer.  He would say nothing about this to Liz, only because she deserved better than to hear him speak in bitterness the name of the other woman that once possessed the center of his heart.

He drove on, anxious to see what was waiting for him at the end of his drive.

 

 

Liz did finally fall asleep, waking to a warm hand rhythmically stroking her hair. "Hi," she murmured happily into the arm of the sofa. She opened her eyes to see the man she had been patiently waiting for, still wearing his hat and jacket, perched on the edge of the coffee table and regarding her with a triumphant smile. Liz pulled herself to a sitting position, surprised to note that at some point she had been covered with a throw blanket. The view from the window was now filled with stars. A couple of lamps had been turned on to provide enough illumination for her to see him nervously rubbing his hands against his legs. She reached out to clasp his right hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Welcome home," she said.

He lowered his head, still afraid to show her the depths of the emotions her greeting brought out in him. No one else ever connected his location with the word 'home'. "Only for a few hours," he explained. "After today's events, it would be best for both of us to disappear for some time."

"Okay," she agreed. He furled his eyebrows at her easy acceptance of his directive. "But we have a few hours, right?" She leaned forward abruptly, pulling off his hat and kissing him deeply at the same time. His arms flew around her of their own accord, pulling her tight against his chest.  Both clumsily leaned into each other across the gap between couch and coffee table, grasping at arms and legs in their efforts to maintain their balance as they embraced.

Raymond finally solved the dilemma by gently pushing her back against the length of the sofa and carefully balancing his weight on his hands and knees above her. "I'm sure we both have tales to tell about our adventures today," he said between kisses. "They'll be quite entertaining later."

Liz managed to remove his tie and loosen the buttons on his vest and shirt, dropping kisses on whatever skin she could manage to expose. "Too many layers, Raymond," she admonished lightly. She pushed on his shoulders, signaling for him to lean back on his knees so she could push the offending articles down his arms and out of her way. His eyes shifted back and forth between the end table lamps stationed at either end of their sofa. Their off switches were far out of his reach. She followed his change in attention and understood his hesitation. Their time in the hotel room had been spent in pitch blackness.

She shifted up on the couch to recapture his attention, and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. "You have nothing to hide from me," she told him firmly. He nodded slowly and allowed her to continue removing layers of clothing until his back was finally exposed. She kissed the undamaged shoulder first, then lovingly caressed the scars that started at the base of his neck and radiated downwards. She could feel the way his muscles twitched involuntarily under her fingers and lips as he forced himself to refrain from pushing her away, and she understood she was the first allowed to touch him there for a very long time.

She returned her attentions to his chest, twirling her fingers in the soft golden hairs and gazing up at his grateful expression. He smiled tenderly, and she had a sudden image of what his face must have appeared like when he was still young and innocent, long before the collection of surveillance pictures she knew so well from his file. He let his fingers trace down the front of her t-shirt and she let out a gasp of pleasure at the touch. He stopped her before she could then enthusiastically wriggle out of the shirt.

"Sweetheart," he said and paused. "I would never claim to be an honorable man, but there are some values I still hold dear despite my otherwise sordid lifestyle." He directed her attention to the file still open on the table "You have every resource you would need to walk out the door at any time and live a full and independent life. I won't force you to stay with me, Lizzie. I need to know you're here because you want to be, not out of any misplaced sense of duty or guilt or need."

Liz shook her head in puzzlement at his words. "Raymond, you have never forced me to do anything. I'm here now because I love you and I don't want to be anywhere else."

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for those words I thought I would never hear addressed towards me again. I couldn't let myself believe that you would ever come here to Baltimore knowing what you would have to leave behind."

He kissed her again lightly against her lips, lingering to feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. "Please understand that I when I love someone I never stop loving them, despite the pain that has sometimes brought me. If we make love here and now then I will expect you to fly away with me on my plane tonight and commit to a life together. Can you do that, Lizzie?"

"Of course," she answered readily.  "I'm with you, Raymond. But maybe not here on the couch?"

He laughed delightedly. He extracted his arms and legs from their entanglement to first stand up and then pull her to her feet next to him.  "Upstairs, downstairs, to the moon, Lizzie.  I'll take you anywhere you want to go," he promised.

'Upstairs for now.  Later we'll take on the world" she replied, taking his hand tightly and leading him to the hall and the stairway at its end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kidnapped her lover, threatened her city with destruction, ruined her job... but the only time I felt guilty was for making poor Liz drive on I95. At least it wasn't I4, Florida's own highway to hell!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New plans form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My daughter keeps a number of quotations on display on her bedroom door, all by the eleventh doctor and charming and inspirational. I hung my favorite quote on the door opposite hers:
> 
> "We become who we are."  
> by Raymond Reddington
> 
> This year I became a lot of different things: farmer, homeschooling mom... and I started becoming a writer. I'm going to take some time away from these characters for a while to focus on some others but I will be back with a sequel in November. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this last part, and thank you again for your kind words and encouragement.

It took a full week for the Post Office to revert back from the brink of disaster to normal levels of chaos. Cooper spent that week either on the phone or in person confronting his infuriated superiors, fending off their threats against his own career and that of his remaining underlings. No one seriously believed that Agent Keen had escaped from custody without someone's help, but all of the employees interviewed from secretaries on up stuck to the same story with a vengeance and left no wiggle room for any realistic investigation to continue. The self-righteous sputtering continued for a few days but then finally subsided into grudging acceptance, and the office and its workers were left in peace. The week ended with Scary Gary taking the fall for the sudden loss of their prize asset and the turncoat agent; the rumor was that he had been transferred to a field office in some small inoffensive midwestern city to live out the rest of his career in peace and obscurity.

Elenna took to her new nickname 'Handcuffs' with good humor. One day Donald Ressler returned to their office from one of his employer's interrogations, tired and frustrated, to observe that she had hung a pair of her namesakes for display high on the wall behind her desk, directly in his line of sight as he dropped exhausted into his chair. The office he had shared with Agent Keen had been sealed off and stripped clean within hours of Liz's departure. Agent Ressler had stood by fuming but helpless as box after box of their case files and some personal items were hauled out by a batch of nameless, silent agents from some unknown faction of the Bureau. Apparently the Post Office was too classified for the normal investigative division that came in to investigate fallen or traitorous agents; these people seemed to answer directly to someone so high above their station that even Cooper could not identify who authorized their invasion. Eventually some personal items were returned in a sad little cardboard box, left on his desk without explanation one day while he had been out on field duties. Agent Davidson had moved in soon after the office was reopened for occupation. She and Don had worked together quietly to sort out Liz's personal items; after a coin flip Elenna took the box home with her for storage with the hope that someday she would be able to return the items in person.

The investigation into the potential bomb threats had stopped abruptly within hours of Keen's disappearance. Cooper tried to gain some information on the resolution of the crisis during his dealings with his superiors, but he was told merely that the threat had been defeated. The insinuation was that Reddington had been responsible for the threats, but nothing official to that effect was added to his file or myriad arrest warrants. The team officially switched missions to now focus on the capture of two of the FBI's most wanted criminals. Liz now came in at #5 on the fabled list, directly below her partner in crime. They had no leads to work from; Liz had been careful to keep all of her personal intel on Reddington secured in the files she had taken with her. All the remaining data the task force had to work with was immediately out of date; none of the old safe houses, identities or contacts would ever be used again.

Several new people were assigned to the task force; a young male CIA agent and an older woman whose background they were never made clear on. Both were professional and courteous on duty but socially kept to themselves despite Agent Davidson's and Aram's numerous friendly advances. No one would admit it, but all of the longtime employees sort of missed Reddington's infrequent but memorable appearances with a lot more fondness than they had felt at the time.

 

 

 

Ironically, the fugitives had a much more pleasant week than the loyal officers of the law. They had departed Baltimore as planned, leaving for the small county airport after darkness fell. In a rare show of affection Mr. Kaplan had hugged them both, wishing them a happy and safe journey. They would not be able to meet again for some time; Mr. Kaplan was planning to visit with her two sons and their families in California for about a month, barring any catastrophes that would need her attention. Liz shook her head in bewilderment at the thought of Kaplan as a baby-cuddling Grandma. Raymond merely clasped her hand even tighter and said nothing else about Kaplan's past. They held hands and snuggled like smitten high schoolers throughout the drive and flight. Dembe said nothing, but smiled to himself with satisfaction when neither was looking. Otherwise their flight wasn't that romantic. Red remained on his phone for most of the trip, making arrangements for Liz's belongings in her apartment to be packed and moved to a secured facility, even finding a new home for her fish with the daughter of one of his compatriots. During a pause she asked about their destination. It was a bolt hole, he answered, a place he maintained off the grid for times when it was best for him to disappear for a little while. This one was an old farmstead in the Allegheny National Forest in northwest Pennsylvania.

His next series of calls also involved her. Apparently they would be roughing it for a little while; he ordered almost an entire new wardrobe for her of jeans and warm flannel shirts and hiking boots with wool socks. Dembe was polite enough to step away when Red started listing sizes of more intimate items. She blushed when he added items that weren't exactly appropriate camping wear. "We'll have to entertain ourselves out there in those quiet woods," he intoned with that false innocent gaze she used to despise but tonight made her feel like falling down the first big drop of the roller coaster.

Despite her excitement she fell asleep stretched out the length of the plane's double seats to wake groggily at landing. Confused by fatigue she followed Raymond's directions without complaint, climbing into the back of the blandly colored SUV that met them in the well-lit but empty executive airport in Franklin. The drive took hours and she slept the entire time nestled against Raymond, who also dozed off in the safety of the car and miles of empty forest that now surrounded them. It fell to Dembe to gently shake his employer awake to inform him of their arrival at the bolt hole. It was actually a large rambling two-story home, originally built in the twenties when the local scene was flourishing, expanded as the family and farm grew, and purchased cheaply by one of Red's many dummy corporations when the farmer retired and none of his children wanted the land instead of cash.

Most of the old fields had turned to meadow, flowering brilliantly in the final blaze of summer glory. Perfect for hikes and picnics and reading old books or talking, activities that occupied most of Raymond's and Liz's daylight hours for the next five days. The only other person they saw was Dembe, except for the afternoon they drove off alone in the SUV to take in the views of the forest and lunch in the nearby burg of Oil City. Otherwise they enjoyed their hours together, their first blocks of time with no worries about witnesses or making excuses to be together.  Along with their affection they shared more of their secrets and thoughts with each other than anyone else in their lives had ever received. Not every story was told; Raymond wouldn't discuss that Christmas, and Liz merely covered her scar with her other hand when it came up as a question. Both agreed that there would be a time in their shared future for these topics and let them be for now.

Even their corner of heaven couldn't hold all of their attention after five days. Liz began wearing faraway looks, flashing a guilty expression when he called her out on it. "I hope Cooper, Ressler and Davidson are okay," she admitted to her worries. "They helped me when they knew what the cost would be."

"Would you like to speak with them again?" he asked in the bland tone she had learned meant change was coming soon.

She sighed to cover her sudden inward happiness. She had hoped this would be the next step. "That would be too risky for them and us. They each must be under constant surveillance."

"By my people as well as others. We can set up a meeting easily enough, Lizzie. Sadly it is not too hard to outwit the majority of g-men." He touched her arm, motioning for her to join him on the creaky swing on the front porch. "My question would be if you're interested in working again."

"You don't mean go back to the FBI," Lizzie countered.

He laughed. "Of course not. I still have a list, dearest, that figures in all of my other plans. What if you take over that part of our agenda? Give the right names at the right times to your friends, drop the right hints, and soon enough wonderful things will happen."

"I become the informant," Liz was intrigued. 

"While I focus on other aspects of our business," Red agreed. "I wouldn't want you to get bored. You can have still have adventures with your friends even if you are now on different sides of the fence."

 

 

 

Elenna decided to take advantage of the lull in office activity by finally offering her brother an invitation to meet up that coming weekend in their hometown. Dr. Edward Davidson was a post-doc in the physics department at CUNY. Most of his research involved the ATLAS experiment in the newly operational particle collider at CERN, so along with his teaching duties and other tasks, he also flew back and forth to Switzerland on a regular basis. Between his travels and her unpredictable workload, they didn't get to visit each other or home as often as he would have liked, so he gladly booted his plans for Saturday when she called and asked for him to make the trek to Bethlehem.

Both arrived at the family home late Friday night. They had a nice breakfast catching up with their parents, then arranged to have a late lunch with their older brother and his family the next day before leaving town. That gave them a free afternoon to indulge in their favorite joint activity. Since high school, when Edward first earned his driver's license and could transport them both, whenever one or the other wished they would drive together to Lehigh Valley Mall, pick up a couple of Starbucks drinks, and hash out their troubles while strolling loops around the upper floor. They had talked each other through academic issues, good and bad relationships, work troubles, and all of the other challenges that had come and gone through the years.

Elenna hefted her latte and drank deeply, feeling the freedom of the escape from reality that always swept her at the start of their routine. She supposed that she was unusual that her brother was her best friend, but especially since she started on the task force, friends were a little hard to come by. She missed Liz; grudgingly she admitted to herself that she could somewhat accept Reddington's presence in her world if it meant regaining her lost buddy. 

"How's life in Fringe division?" Edward started the conversation, smiling brighter as he sensed his sister's reticence. She was even more tired than normal, and this job had always exhausted her.

"Awesome," she replied wearily. "Same shit, different universe." 

"How's Olivia and Lincoln?" Involuntarily she surveyed the crowds, seeking out anyone on surveillance. She thought she would be able to spot anyone the FBI sent to watch her, but she assumed that if Red still had people following her she would never find them.

"Olivia retired," Elenna answered abruptly. Even the names of her co-workers were highly classified, so her fanboy brother had come up with the idea of substituting names of fictional agents so they could at least banter about the non-classified parts of her job. He also loved to take wild guesses at the classified aspects.  Part of what kept her from spilling the beans was her bemused understanding that Edward was one the very few people she knew who would likely find the reality of her work boring compared to the fantasy he had built up in his creative imagination. "Unexpected retirement, so the place was hell this last week."

"That's sad. You guys were buddies, weren't you?" Edward was concerned. Elenna sighed as she reflexively scanned the crowds again. He had immediately realized that more had happened then the 'retirement' of a friend.

"Yeah, well." she gulped down more of her drink, ready to change topics. Then her phone rang with the tone assigned to her partner. Who swore he wouldn't interrupt her weekend unless it was an emergency.

"Got to take this," she announced with an apologetic shrug. He knew from previous phone interruptions what that meant and nodded quickly in agreement. He stepped away to study a nearby window display. Elenna noted a quiet maintenance hallway nearby, as private a place she was going to find in the busy shopping center. She answered the call as she hurried down the empty corridor. "What's up, Lincoln?" she greeted darkly.

He understood this to mean she was in a public place and couldn't speak freely. "I just got a call from someone who wants to meet with us."

"Seriously?" she demanded. It was his tone that threw her off-kilter for a moment. Don sounded happy. She let her hopes rise. "Is it her?"

"You mean Olivia?" he replied with bemusement. He and Liz both had teased Elenna when she had confessed her brother's code names for them, then finally sheepishly admitted they each had similar systems for their own families. 

"Awesome!" Agent Davidson exclaimed in relief. "Where and when?"

"Now," was his improbable reply.

She protested immediately. "I'm in Allentown with my brother."

"At the mall, I know. I'm ten minutes away, if I can find a parking spot. Why do so many people waste their weekends at a shopping mall?" His bluster went unnoticed as she made the connection. 

"Shit, you're both here? Why here? Out in public..." She trailed off, wondering how she was going to ditch her brother, who was definitely going to find a way to catch a peek of the elusive partners. She had been hustling back down the corridor to the main floor. She skidded to a stop when she realized in dumbfounded wonder who was waiting for her. Now she knew why she had sensed unusual levels of surveillance this visit. She hadn't been paranoid; across the busy promenade Liz was sitting next to Edward on one of the benches surrounding the large artwork that dominated the otherwise bright and open space. She caught Elenna's eye and smiled broadly, motioning for her to join them. "Change of plans. Meet us by the escalators," she ordered into her phone before abruptly hanging up.

"Look who came to meet me," Edward announced with a grin. "The famous Olivia. She thinks my job is interesting, too." Though he knew from his sister's stormy expression on approach this introduction was not what she would have ordered from the options menu. 

"Well, aren't you wizard?" she snapped in reply, regressing to their high school level of insults as she searched around him for observers.  Getting caught with them would have negative effects on her brother's life and career, more job guilt she didn't want to carry.  "Go take a nice long walk and wait for me to call you," she told him and turned to her former coworker.  "Feeling confident, are we?" Elenna couldn't help the snark that snuck into her voice as her brother obeyed by quickly disappearing.

Liz answered simply. "We don't have that many people now that we can trust. Actually, Red and Edward have some associates in common that have vouched for him as a possible contact for a future situation." 

"That is genuinely frightening," Elenna retorted, and then smiled brightly as she paused to take in the welcome sight of her friend. "How are you? Things have been so different at the office since you've been gone."

"I'll bet. But what if some things don't change?" Liz's eyes rose up to take in the arrival of Ressler, who without a word plunked down on the bench on her other side. "What if we make a deal? You meet with me, I quietly bring you names from a list..." 

"And in exchange we never find you or your fellow runaway," Elenna bit her lip, trying to gauge Ressler's thoughts from his impassive expression. 

"Who else would know about this? Cooper?" he asked

 "If you think you can bring him in on the deal without it going any farther." Liz agreed. "You can't trust anyone else, even the people you think are legitimate are just good at hiding themselves and their conspiracies." Elenna frowned involuntarily, but Agent Ressler nodded in agreement. 

"So we keep bringing down Red's competition for him," Agent Davidson needed some more convincing. "Same old game."

The current FBI agents shared questioning glances, but both had already made their decisions.

Elenna admitted, "You had me at conspiracies." 

"When do we start?" Ressler asked.

Liz reached for her handbag and pulled out an envelope.  "Right here, right now," she said. "Here's the first name. I know you'll be surprised by what he's done."

 

 

 

 


End file.
